


Sweet Creature, Sweet Creature

by magicalou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Heart Disease, I can't believe I'm actually doing this, Love, M/M, Oh My God, Romance, Terminal Illnesses, Work In Progress, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalou/pseuds/magicalou
Summary: Louis is a talented and successful songwriter that was born with a rare heart disease, and Harry is a celebrated musician that has won the world with his charm. When Fate... or Liam Payne and Jeff Azoff more accurately, bring them together to create Harry's debut album, neither are prepared for what life suddenly starts to bring their way.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> The first book I've taken to write with all my heart and emotion. Hope you enjoy!

** 1 **

The first day Louis picked up a pen and wrote some lyrics was probably the last day Louis ever spent his days bored. He was thirteen and had big plans to become a star. He dreamed of being up on the biggest stage in the world, a crowd so large it would look like a long stretch of ocean before the stage. The screams from the audience so deafening he would have to take a moment just to bask in the insanity of his life. But, he would always crash down after the daydreaming stopped.

His chest would always pinch him a little too harsh or his lungs would make his back ache too much to keep on imagining. Always the same old burden. Always the same _condition._

Louis hated the word. He hated the word and everything it stood for. He didn’t like to be reminded of his heart, he didn’t like to grow bitter whenever his family talked about it. He didn’t like gasping for air when he ran through the football field or the insufferable headaches and sleepless nights when his heart suddenly began racing for no apparent reason.

He remembers how his mum always seemed to look at him sadly whenever he got tired too quickly or when he wouldn’t want to go out because his medicines were too strong to keep him awake for long.

Louis hated when she looked at him like that because he knew she was blaming herself all the time.

Louis never blamed her.

_ + _

__

_ DECEMBER 1991 _

Johanna “Jay” Poulston, at 19 years old, gave birth to a baby boy on Christmas Eve. After ten painful, blurry hours of contractions, she had finally felt peace and tranquility from all the crying and cold sweats that had taken her hostage. The peace didn’t last long.

Jay’s father had been there that day, along with her former husband Troy Austin and Eve, a friend she’d known for most of her life.

On Christmas Eve, Louis Troy Austin was born. He was six pounds and 5 ounces with the bluest eyes. He also had one of the rarest forms of heart conditions, the odds being 1 in 1000 babies to contract it.

Jay had immediately noticed that something was wrong when the multiple nurses and doctor began rushing to the opposite side of the room where her baby laid on a mint cot. With Jay’s view still blocked by the nurses, she had no way of knowing what was happening to her son. 

Panting, visibly tired from long hours of labor, she was struggling to understand the severity of the problem, her surroundings spinning in a daze as she tried to focus all her strength on her baby boy. 

Her tiny newborn baby was being rapidly placed in another glass cot, a nurse unsuccessfully trying to cover Jay’s view but, she’d caught a glimpse of bluish skin around the baby’s face and, blurs of memories begin to fade out afterward. 

She doesn’t remember much, but her husband had mentioned a few months after, that she had apparently begun screaming as soon as she couldn’t see him and had tried to get off the bed to run for the cot and catch Louis before he’d completely disappeared behind a set of heavily locked doors. 

She remembers crying.

The doctors managed to calm her enough to explain that Louis had been born alive but presented very ‘worrisome behavior’ and a rare lack of oxygen after having been repeatedly liberated of any excess mucus on the nose and mouth. They immediately knew the baby was sick.

They had suspected Louis had some type of anomaly in his heart but when they had finally gotten to it, they discovered just how bad it was.

 He had a hole between the two lower chambers of his heart. The chamber that was supposed to transport blood to the lungs was completely blocked. It prevented much oxygen to flow, causing the skin to decolorize. The thickened muscle on the outside of his heart was too enlarged to be normal, adding to the piles of different surgeries they would have to do in the near future, all in hopes of reconstructing the heart and gifting the boy a normal life.

They had performed an emergency surgery first, to temporarily keep him stabilized and bring the proper blood to his lungs, which had taken doctors more than 6 hours to perform and big numbers to begin to add up to the hospital bill. During the operation, they realized that Louis had one of the harshest and most violent forms of heart anomalies, and immediately broke the news to his family. 

Jay had been terrified as the doctors listed the problems Louis had, but kept a strong front and listened intently and carefully as they explained. She did all the research she could about what the doctors said was called ‘Tetralogy of Fallot’ later on.

She will never forget the moment when a group of doctors that had been looking after Louis, approached a young and terrified Jay. They all talked formally and distantly, their eyes almost barren from any kind of passionate emotion. They explained in very delayed and long words how they deduced Louis’ life expectancy to four months if all surgeries ended stably.

Jay doesn’t remember feeling anything but numbed agony after then. Her body beginning to shut from all the pressure and her chest caving when she’d sobbed into her father’s shoulder. Her feet stumbling on the cold tiles of the giant hospital wings where thousand of beeping machines suddenly seemed to get louder as they exploded inside her head. 

Nine months. Jay had carried that baby inside her a total of nine months, just for him to be taken away after four more. She’d never felt more heartbroken in her entire life. She’d laid by Louis’ side for days, failing to grasp the fact that he’d come to earth so violently and tragically just to steal Jay’s heart and take it away with him wherever he went after this life. 

Jay lived stages of denial, intense grief and finally a redundant amount of stubbornness. She refused to believe that her baby could just die in a few months as if he was nothing more than a number added to the casualties of an illness he hadn’t asked for. 

She remembers beginning to lose hope as Louis’ condition worsened after the fourth surgery came around. Doctors insisted on stopping all future procedures and letting Louis either perish or get better. Jay had never heard such cold and hollow words, but always refused to show they affected her, only nodding with petrified eyes and a stoic back. Never letting the outside world know, how she felt the very floor beneath her feet fall straight through the earth into nothingness, every single time more news came. 

She said her goodbyes. She wished Louis so much love as nurses warned her baby's condition had begun to fail in the past weeks. They advised she talk to her son because even though he never understood a thing, Jay could get the therapeutic feeling of farewell she would need in years to come. She encouraged him to let go, to be free, and to travel high and easy, without the weight of his body pinning him down. She cried so much she lost count of how many times her chest contracted in a sob.

Hope arrived a day afterward. Louis’ condition suddenly began to look better as he woke up the next morning kicking his tiny legs with enthusiastic energy. The nurses had ran in when they’d seen the monitor pick up speed with each beat. Weeks to come doctors remained skeptical as to how and why the baby’s health had suddenly gotten better without any medication or follow-up surgery. 

Then there were tears of joy. Surgeries were rescheduled and the long journey Jay had begun only a month before, was just starting back up. 

Jay still paced a lot during this time.

She watched her son breathe quickly where he laid on his chest, his back quickly falling and rising to get enough air in his lungs. She remembers mostly just how much she still cried.

She kept getting headaches from her crying and if not, she would be worn down from spending so much time next to Louis’ crib just watching him sleep or blink bored as he stared straight ahead.

There was also the first time she got to hold him.

It had been a few days after his fifth surgery. He had been stable enough and the nurses had begun to grow endeared of Jay and her tiny baby boy. One of the more kinder nurses had stepped into the room and delicately maneuvered around the many wires surrounding the baby. She’d quietly placed Louis in his mother’s arms without saying anything and Jay had been nothing less than grateful and ecstatic. 

Jay cried then as well. She could feel his warmth seeping into her skin and, when his giant blue eyes were suddenly looking straight into her own, Jay knew she’d felt something shift. The smile he gave her once she’d let out the first sob was all she needed. She knew at that moment that Louis was her’s and she was Louis’, forever. 

_ + _

_ FEBRUARY 2019 _

Louis scratched lazily at his scruffy chin, his eyes lazy as they glazed over the open document on his laptop with scrambled lyrics and notations all over the bright screen. His glasses were barely perched on the tip of his nose, his fingers tracing mindless circles on the desk of his music studio as he kept revising the latest words he had typed down.

‘We’re running through the garden, where nothing-’

He idly tapped his pen against the table in frustration. He couldn’t get the final words for the pre-chorus and it was finally driving him insane. Usually, words would rush to him whenever a song was almost done, but, this one, in particular, felt very different than the five previous ones he’d finished that week. Whenever he thought he finally enjoyed the sound of the words rolling into the melody, there would always be something missing again, like one piece would unscramble two more that had finally fit. It was beginning to feel taxing on his tired head.

He stood, going to fix himself a warm cup of tea in the hopes of resetting his patience and, letting his creative headspace breathe out for a while. His stiff joints popped with satisfaction as he threw a lazy arm from one side to the other, his muscles straining with the vague stretch. He wondered from his place at the desk. Heading for the kitchen down the hall from his home studio he reached into his pocket until he felt his cold iPhone at the bottom of his sweats. He unlocked it and quickly skimmed through his latest text from Liam, his best friend since forever and usual co-writer and tea maker in bad days.

**‘new FIFA arrived tday for you to _rview_ , wana play**?’

Louis snorted at Liam’s incorrigible grammar.

‘sure, come by whenever, got a bit of a writer’s block at the mo’

The kettle he’d set was now whistling loudly to his right, so Louis set his phone down quickly and got to work on his third cup of tea before Liam arrived in the next ten minutes, exactly. Of course, Liam would, he was nothing but punctual.

Louis pondered if a shower would actually fit in the next five minutes before Liam came knocking his door down. He shrugged and deemed it worth it after he felt how greasy his hair had gotten after three days of non-stop songwriting. Liam liked to compare him to a hibernating bear just before summer when he was elbow deep in music and his signed-hopefuls began to run around like headless chicken whenever he took too long to deliver a song. 

This year though he hadn’t signed anyone new yet. There was the odd couple of artists that still asked for a pair of songs for their new records, but, Louis hadn’t actually signed a new act for the upcoming year, much to Liam’s stressed demands. 

It wasn’t that Louis hadn’t received countless offers from different label companies, but rather that he hadn’t found an artist he actually wanted to collaborate with in the slightest. Last year, he’d produced music for a growing girl band that broke the charts with two hit singles and incredible music videos. Louis had written both songs as well as most of the album’s tracks; the girls and him working through long nights just so they could produce the perfect sound for the band. 

Producing could be incredibly stressful and at times annoying, but Louis knew he would never trade it for the world. The rush of adrenaline from hearing his own work in radio stations and coffee shops never got old, and he liked to believe it was the closest he could get to the dream he’d always had as a little kid. Performing for thousands and a sea of people, deafening screams. 

Effectively, after properly drying his hair with a towel, he heard a distant knock at the door, signaling Liam had arrived. He quickly turned off his bathroom lights and headed for the entrance next to the kitchen.

Liam was standing there, looking nothing short of joyous as he let himself inside. One hand carried the brand new FIFA game and the other hand what suspiciously looked like Chinese takeout.

Louis’ stomach grumbled from the smell and he thanked his lucky stars for Liam Payne.

“Payno you’re a godsend, honestly,” He sighed graciously. He took the food from him and headed to the kitchen to get some plates, the smell of the food making his mouth water, suddenly realizing how hungry he actually was. 

Liam snorted loudly from the living room, voice sounding strained as he seemed to be bent over working on hooking up the console. “Hello, Louis- this bag? Yes, it’s food. Oh, did I bring some for you as well? Thank you, for asking. Of course, I did buddy,” Liam faked in enthusiastic delight, walking into the kitchen to grab his plate. The PlayStation was updating in the background on the giant flat screen in his living room, loading fast. 

Liam served himself some noodles and picked one of the white boxes on the counter, a plastic fork balanced on top of the lid. “Don’t get that much from you so I will cherish those words with my life,” Liam continued, no real heat behind his words. He bumped hips with Louis who shoved him lightly back out the archway of the kitchen, chuckling softly as he licked a tiny drop of soy sauce from his thumb. 

His best friend plopped down onto the leather couches in the living room, and waited for Louis to finish serving his own plate as he went through the main menu of the new Fifa game. Electronic Arts had heard Louis adored the game and sent it two months before its release, so he could ‘ _contribute to the betterment and pleasant experience of our regular gamers, reviewing our updated game strategies as well as the improved graphics we’ve created, for your enjoyment.’_ Liam knew it was code for, ‘ _send us an email saying its great and we’ll print it in our disc boxes next to other celebrity’s names, thanks.’_

“5 pounds I smash your arse today,” Louis said as he walked back into the living room with his food served, grabbing his favorite controller from the shelf before plopping down next to Liam, food placed easily on his stomach.

 “Yeah right, you haven’t won a match against me in ages. Don’t get too cocky now,” Liam warned defensively as he dug into his own plate while choosing a team and player.

“I dunno, I actually like my odds today… we’ll see,” Louis replied grinning and savoring his noddles as the match started on the screen.

+

A while later, Louis finished the dishes and had a satisfied smile while scrubbing a plate, five pounds in his pocket while Liam ranted in the distance, doing God knew what around his flat. It was dumb, because he knew he didn’t really need the five pounds - his bank account was healthy enough to extend to his grandchildren - but, the satisfaction of seeing Liam lose for once was unique and rare on its own.

 Once he’d finished washing the dishes, he noticed Liam had set his defeat to rest. But, only after the full hour speech he gave Louis about morals and rules, which finally seemed to have left him at peace. 

The quiet sound of a guitar was flooding into the kitchen, so Louis dried his hands quickly before heading to his home studio to see what Liam was up to - though he already suspected.

He’d set himself up in Louis’ studio - or it could be theirs, since Liam seemed to use it as much as Louis - his fingers jamming the sleek guitar strings, humming along to Louis’ abandoned attempt to finish writing the song on his laptop. Louis started listening more intently when Liam jotted down a few more words into the computer, successfully fitting the last words for the pre-chorus that Louis couldn’t seem to find. 

“… _where nothing bothered us._ _But we’re still young, I always think about you and how we don’t speak enough_ …” He sang with the guitar riffing the messy scribble of chords Louis had drawn in the margins of his worn notebook. Liam was of the few people who was actually able to decipher his notes in his worn notebooks, always understanding exactly what Louis meant after staring at his hieroglyphs and doodles with a serious expression.

 “Genius Payno, what a genius,” Louis whispered over Liam’s shoulder.

Liam smiled but kept strumming to the chorus and humming a melody that fitted perfectly as a follow up from the pre-chorus, fixing most of the chords that fell flat in parts that would fit in the verses. 

“… _I know, we started two hearts in one home.. it’s- hmm hard nana argue, nana na… I know_ ,” Liam sung and strummed some more random chords as they faded out. He stared at the screen a little longer, where a quiet hum fell between the two of them before he stretched his back and placed the guitar in its original stand. He saved the lyrics in Louis’ computer and then shut it off when it was done. 

He turned to Louis then, who was staring off as he thought over some more lyrics, still stuck in his songwriting when he cleared his throat.  
  
The sudden silence startled Louis out of his head as he looked down at his best friend, his gaze seeming wary but determined.

“What’s the matter?” Louis asked though he suspected where the conversation was headed. He’d had tons before this one that started just the same. 

Liam hesitated, opening and closing his mouth as he seemed to search for the right words to say. 

“I just worry about you sometimes Lou,” Liam admitted quietly as he broke their stare and looked down at his shoes distractedly, rubbing the points of his shiny boots together in an attempt to busy himself. “Like… being here all by yourself. It plagues my mind.”  
  
“I don’t understand. What suddenly brought this up?” Louis asked, he knew Liam wasn’t very emotional and tended to skirt around certain topics, but Louis’ _disease_ never seemed to leave Liam completely at peace with himself. He always seemed to complete a full cycle before he was back to fussing over Louis again.

 “It’s just that- well, my mum called me today and told me that Mr. Johnson- Y’know, the old guy who had a flower shop down the street? He- died, of a heart attack just like _that_ yesterday,” Liam snapped his fingers together for effect before gnawing on his lip nervously; Liam hated bringing somber subjects to light, but sometimes, it got the best of him.

 Louis stared at Liam for a while, hating the fact that he was always so nervous Louis would snap at him for talking about his… burden.

Growing up, the two friends got into endless fights because Louis would always fire up a storm whenever Liam or his mother fussed over him like mother hens. Louis hated feeling weaker or smaller when he was in high school. He always just wanted to feel the same as everybody else, not frail or weak, just, normal, not breakable. 

Louis doesn’t remember a day Liam hadn’t been there through those years though. For endless nights they’d lay awake, plotting ways in which they’d get rich and famous together. They would be each other's rocks and knew each other like the back of their own hands. Liam would defend Louis from every asshole and ignorant bully who dared to push him around. He would get constantly sent to detention with every idiot that yelled slurs or threw punches Louis’ way. 

Louis, in return, would help Liam’s grades, tutoring him when he was failing subjects and encouraging him to get better. They were right by each other’s side whenever the situation called, never failing to hug and protect each other’s hearts. They were true brothers since they could remember.

So, Louis couldn’t blame him, sometimes he still didn’t enjoy having to talk about it and he didn’t like to be reminded. But, he was more mature now though, had grown thicker skin and lots of patience in the last couple of years. And he understood it was therapeutic and assuring when he cooperated and helped Liam or his sisters stay at peace.

Louis pondered on the news for a moment where silence passed before he let out a long breath and faced Liam again.

“Look Li…I-I’m sorry about Ray. I know how much you thought of him as a friend. I’m sorry if I ever worry you but, hey, I’m fine and dandy, yeah?” Louis tried to convince Liam who still looked plenty worried. He tended to forget Louis was more experienced with his health and knew when something was wrong, like a sixth sense almost. Something helping him discern false alarms from real threats, a gut feeling that was always right. 

“I take my meds, I have my monthly check-ups and.. sure they could be better but it’s not terminal or anything. Just stop worrying so much about it,’’ Louis insisted softly. He placed both hands on Liam’s solid shoulders, squeezing tightly to bring Liam’s attention back to Louis.

He looked relieved when Lou tackled him in a tight hug. Liam’s nose digging hard into Louis’ shoulder as he let out a satisfied sigh and patted Louis’ back gently like he did when he was upset.

Louis let him for a minute, letting his weight go into Liam’s arms that held tightly, almost protectively, his whole body being held as he breathed a deep sigh and patted loudly on Liam’s back too. 

“Ok Li, I can’t breathe, let me out.”

Liam chuckled lightly as he let him go, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck self-deprecatingly. Louis was so used to seeing his best friend happy, almost a hundred percent of the time. It was discomforting and almost odd when he got sad.

The two boys stood up and left the suddenly stuffy studio behind them, heading back to the mess of controllers and cables they’d left in the living room sofas, once again laying back and savoring the comfortable pillows and the easy and warm trace of Chinese food in the air. Just relaxing with he PlayStation music in the background. 

“Oh shit, I just remembered!”

“What?”

“I got a call from Jeff Azoff today, said he represents a new guy now,” Liam said with raised eyebrows seemingly eager to keep talking. Liam knew the Azoff’s were one of the most powerful families in the American music industry. He’d been delighted when he’d finally met Irving Azoff’s younger son Jeffrey, who so happened to be the one conveniently taking after his father’s legacy. They’d chatted a year prior and since then Liam had made sure to keep in contact in any case an opportunity arose. 

“He sounded excited and mentioned he was a family friend. The guy’s shying on twenty-three and is relatively new to the industry. Jeff said he needs _you_ to write him five songs for the lad since doesn’t expect him to write hits after being signed for a day. Very popular on social media. I would even try to chime in once in a while since I’ve got the gig with Sam Smith all of next month still.”

“But I work so much better when you pull me from my constant writer’s block,” Louis reproached lightly, kicking Liam’s shin with his socked foot. Liam chuckled back.   
  
“I can’t very well drop the job now, Sam’s grown quite fond of me actually,” Liam batted his eyes knowing it would annoy Louis.

“Oi, stop it, you’re my best friend slash convenient colleague and songwriter, I called dibs on you when we were four.” 

“I’m joking Lou. But, basically, the kid already cracked America so it’s not like-"

“-Woah, woah, hold up right there. He already cracked the U.S.?” Louis asked disbelieving, eyes wide.

 “Well yeah, I couldn’t believe it myself so I asked Jeff. He said the kid posted some videos singing on his Instagram like two years ago and they kind of blew up overnight. Girls were suddenly requesting all kinds of songs for him to cover. He got big fast, and then created a Youtube account, and to everyone’s surprise, it got up to seventy million views in like a week. Girls and boys alike adore the kid,” Liam said matter-of-factly, “He’s like the next Shawn Mendes or something, it’s insane.”

Louis whistled in awe. Seventy million international views weren't normal for a brit guy. There had to be something extremely special about him, an X-factor or a charming personality. 

“And what’s his name?” 

Liam raised his pointer finger and quickly dug through his text messages on his iPhone, squinting as he scrolled for a few seconds. He hummed and finally smiled, “Harry Styles.”

Louis scored his face into something neutral as he savored the name for a second. It sounded incredibly pop star-ish. “Is it his stage name or his real one as well?”  


Liam shook his head, “I asked Jeff but that’s his birth name, it’s not Harold or anything, his actual name is Harry… like the prince.”

Louis hummed in acknowledgment and rubbed his scruffy chin, thinking. 

He hadn’t signed anyone new and Liam knew better than anyone how dreadful it would be for Louis if the guy was a drag. He’d already dealt half of his career in writing music with proper twats, and he wasn’t ever looking forward to doing it again. 

Solo artists blew up mostly because they were attractive and had sticky pop songs, or, because they wrote actual masterpieces as their debut singles though they didn’t have the best looks. If this Harry guy was something in between, Louis could say it was the first time he’d heard of such a breakthrough artist’s rise to fame.

“If he’s as incredible as Jeff paints him, I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot,” Louis paused lost in his head but then shook his shoulders roughly. “I’ll do it. Tell Jeff that I could begin songwriting tomorrow, _and_ , that he owes me one for short notice,” Louis said pointedly as he shut off the TV and stood up from the couch.

“I will,” Liam nodded in awe but looked back at Louis with warning eyes, “But, get some rest for yourself and don’t stay up too late with these songs, please. Your sisters hate it when you stop sleeping to meet deadlines,” Liam said absentmindedly, grabbing his car keys and wallet from the entrance table. 

He was bent down and sliding his boots on when a pillow slammed against his leg.

“Yeah sure mum. Don’t worry, I’ll try my best,” Louis said sarcastically with a glint of fond amusement in his eyes. 

Liam only laughed loudly and flipped Louis the bird, retreating through the door and heading home. 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fairly longer than the prologue! Hope you enjoy!! Don't worry I'll keep updating this story. x

**2**

  
Louis grew up in a bittersweet relationship with his peers.

  
He had always been used to the nagging, nasty comments the other kids made. But it got particularly hard when it came down to his Physical ED classes. For as long as Louis remembers, he’d always been excused from playing any kind of sport. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he could barely hold himself together or breathe enough air to actually get through them. About five kids he still remembers used to take him to the back of the school grounds and finish him with a few kicks and punches, accusing him of being a ‘sissy’ and a ‘faggy’ for skipping track or football games.  
  
Louis remembers having bad and good days at school.  
  
Apart from Liam, he had a best-friend called Hannah. The other boys at his school used to tease him for hanging out with her. They used to call Hannah Louis’ girlfriend, always asking him if he had ever kissed her. What they didn’t know was how much Louis felt attracted to boys his age. At first, he remembers feeling confused and quite scared, thinking his condition was the reason his heart didn’t beat faster when he saw a girl pass by as it did with boys.  
  
So he asked his mum about it when he neared ten years old.   
  
“Ma?” Louis asked shyly from where he stood at the kitchen door, watching his mother cook fervently for him and his sisters before dinner time came.  
  
Jay, who’d been distracted by her thoughts, stopped when she heard her eldest son and looked at him from where she stood, kind eyes and lopsided smile sneaking in her features. They lasted seconds before she noticed the worry etched on Louis’ face.  
  
“What’s wrong baby?” Jay asked sadly, turning off the kitchen fire and placing her apron to the side as she approached her kid. “Rough day at school?”  
  
Louis hesitated, “No, it’s just that… I’ve noticed something lately. A-about my feelings, here,” Louis placed a hand over his heart, looking earnestly at his mother.   
Jay nodded, suspecting what was coming next. “And what did you notice, sweetheart?”  
  
“W-well, yesterday when I was in lunch break with Hannah I got teased again about her being my girlfriend. I noticed how my heart beats differently when I’m close to someone I have a crush on,” Louis explained innocently, not really sure of what he was saying.  
  
Jay still nodded and squeezed Louis’ hand tightly in hers in encouragement.  
  
“And I noticed it doesn’t beat like that when I’m talking to Hannah or Sara or even Lucy who every boy in my class fancies. It beat like that when I was close to Tommy, from the class next to mine. I-I don’t know what that means and if maybe it beat like that because of my heart problem,” Louis explained, nervously playing with his paint-covered hands, having forgotten to wash them after playing with his sisters and their coloring books less than an hour ago.  
  
Jay looked on at her tiny baby boy. Innocent and oblivious to so much of the world, it broke and melted her heart with so much love for her little fighter. She felt her eyes well up for him, looking up at her in confusion and trust, hoping his mother could have the answer to his ‘problem.'   
  
She had noticed, as Louis grew up, but learned quickly not to make assumptions of any kind until Louis took his time to form himself and find out more from life. But now, standing in front of her she was sure, and she loved him even more for getting to meet a new side of Louis, that only with age he could uncover and figure out for himself. She felt pride and fear for him, for the world was an unkind and dark place for people whose sexuality was anything but straight and conservative. The 90’s was a time of change though; people grew up to be more open-minded and tolerable. She hoped that as the 2000’s rolled by, the world would be a better place for her eldest son to meet.   
  
Jay felt a surge of protectiveness and love bloom in her. She grabbed his son by the shoulders, pulling him into a fierce, bone-crushing hug, breathing in his warmth, and placing a gentle hand in his hair. She breathed deeply and reminisced for a moment about simpler times when Louis was tiny enough to be held easily in her arms, and their heartbeats would sync with each other as they hung on tightly. She pulled back enough to talk to him.  
  
“Honey what you feel is as normal as trees growing from the ground or as skies are bright in the daytime. What you feel are affection and love, and I’m glad you do. That only makes you better. Love is what fuels our actions to be more productive and incredible. You like boys Lou, and that’s ok. It’s fine baby because whoever you love as long as you love them right, it doesn’t really matter who they are,” Jay said, her voice clogged by unshed tears as she looked at Louis, who looked surprised and even a tiny bit relieved.   
  
“So it’s not wrong to like boys mum?” Louis still asked a bit uncertainly, his gaze unbelieving as he absentmindedly played with his mother’s hair, tiny fingers carding lovingly as he thought.  
  
Jay shook her head firmly looking at her son straight in the eye, “It will never ever be wrong, no matter what people may say or do to make you think so, love is love and regardless of where it comes from, love trumps hate over everything else.” 

+

  
_“Lou,” Louis heard a name whispered in his ear. “Lou, darling, wake up before I leave,”_ It _whispered again. Louis recognized that voice, it was- “Lou its mum, please open your eyes for me, I don’t want to go alone,” She pleaded weakly, voice raspy and distant. “I want to see you one last time, please.” Louis whimpered loudly, wanting nothing more than to see her face again too. But it was dark, it was so dark and he couldn’t reach her, he wanted to see her so badly too. Always so so dark.“I can’t. Help, I can’t open them, mum. MUM!” He yelled thrashing his arms to reach out to his mother’s cries. He couldn’t move, he was trapped, he was bound and he couldn’t-_  
  
Louis sat up, screaming loud in panic, chest thick with sweat and every muscle tense and tight, his lungs barely catching enough air before his airway clamped tightly shut, leaving him gasping for air. It took Louis a moment to realize he had a nightmare and he was at the gates of a panic attack, his room pitch dark around him.   
  
_Night terrors._  
  
He suddenly slammed a hand against his bedside drawer in alarm and violently scattered in desperation for his emergency inhaler. He gasped quietly as his throat closed like a hot vice clamping out his lungs. He felt the familiar cold metal in his palm and weakly placed it between his lips, clicking it, a puff of air liberating his lungs from their tight grasp. He wheezed and gasped as he tried to catch as much air as possible and clutched his chest as it pinched severely and painfully in protest.  
  
“Argh, fuck!” Louis wheezed as it gave a rather painful thud against his rib cage again and again. He rummaged his drawers once more, face contorted in pain until he found the bottle of pills and quickly popped two in his mouth, taking deep practiced breaths as calmly as he could to level his heart to a normal beating rhythm. Louis was cautious, so the pinching wouldn’t bring him to faint like the last time he’d suffered a night terror. He sat there in his bed in the dark for a while, his body slowly taking in the effect of the medicine, the pinching subsiding bit by bit.   
  
Louis scrubbed a hand over his face, tired. He’d never stopped having the night terrors, but nowadays they weren’t as frequent. When they did come, they took a greater toll on his body compared to before, when the events were still fresh, and his body had managed to get used to the sudden jolts of anxiety and panic that attacked his body each night. He’d be so used to them. He always had water, pills and his inhalator close by in his nightstand for when they crept into his mind as he slept. Though that made it seem like he actually slept. Louis didn’t sleep much because the incredible fear of getting his throat sealed shut by a nightmare would usually throw off any appeal sleeping had.   
  
Now they’re less frequent and appeared once each month, at the least. Always sneaking up on him and catching him with his guard down.  
  
Louis padded with his socked feet into his vast and spacious kitchen, flickering the lights on as he headed for the fridge. He took out some milk and grabbed cereal from one of his cupboards, which were unusually close to the counter given to his ‘average’ height. He’d almost strangled Liam for that one.  
  
He mixed the cereal and milk before taking his phone out of his joggers. Sitting by his tall window sill, he looked down at the quiet hum of London underneath him. Louis sighed.  
  
He remembered how he sometimes used to sit here back when his nightmares came by more often and wished so hard to be the people partying and smiling and laughing as they passed his dull, fancy apartment building. He remembers he’d given anything to take a whisk at a regular college guy’s life, just to run through a field and catch a ball without losing his breath, or jumping and screaming with his friends at concerts, the bass in the speakers forcing your heart to beat with the music. He would often long for that life. Hanging out late at some strangers house and drinking for the sake of it instead of having to share a respective glass of wine with some snobby suit guy, ready to make a deal about a new artist’s album. He knew life could’ve gone differently for him, but there were most days when he didn’t regret it.  
  
Contrary to what may seem, Louis still adored his job. He loved being able to bring an artist a piece of music that could become their own. His own words and experiences scribbled along the verses and chorus and spread all over different corners of the world. Louis shook himself out of his reverie and unlocked his phone, his legs tucked warmly underneath him, feet comfortably curled. He scrolled his contacts until he spotted his sister’s name. He hesitated for a second, unsure of whether Lottie would be sleeping or wondering her apartment much like Louis was doing now. He decided to check just in case and hit the call button.  
  
“Lou?” Lottie answered after the fourth ring, sounding concerned and not sleepy at all and Louis couldn’t blame her. “Hi, Lotts,” Louis said with the tiniest smile, voice cracked from fatigue and probably his wheezing session from not too long ago.  
   
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” She asked voice starting to increase in panic. Lottie was of the few people who knew Louis well enough to tell how he liked to downplay incredibly worrisome health issues.  
  
Louis sighed self-deprecatingly. “Don’t worry love; I just couldn’t sleep and wondered if you couldn’t either, like in the ol’ times,” He joked hollowly, remembering a year ago when they both suffered insomnia.   
  
Lottie gave a visible sigh of relief and chuckled once, quietly, “Yeah sure Lou. How are you doing?” She asked, her voice full of warmth and love, reminding Louis of summer days back home.  
  
Louis groaned as he stretched his back, joints popping satisfactorily as he did a quick stretch from where he sat. He placed the phone back in his ear, “I’ve seen better days but, I’m sure I’ll be okay and tired soon enough. Entertain me until then, please,” Louis requested, mock-demanding as he got comfy by the window.  
  
“How did your check up go?” Lottie asked softly as if trying not to disturb the quiet, late night.  
  
“Not much actually,” Louis shrugged as he focused on a tall building not too far away from his window. “Dr. Bashore said I was mainly fine for someone with my level of heart damage and that I only had to up my dosage for Lopressor, which actually sucks. That pill makes me ten times more tired and gives me the worst nausea known to humans,” Louis groaned as he started to dread the morning where he would most probably have to fight against projectile vomiting.  
  
The line was quiet for a beat before Lottie sniffed, seemingly away from the phone but Louis heard it clear as day.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey, now, don’t go getting all weepy on me. I’ve been taking it since I was like fifteen or summat, there’s nothing wrong with it Lotts, seriously,” Louis said as nonchalantly as he could manage, but he could still hear her let out a few sniffs as some ruffling of sheets sounded from her side.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lottie’s voice came through the phone, sounding clogged and sad. “I don’t mean to do this every time you call Lou, I swear. It’s just hard… To be old enough to understand just how bad you’ve got it, how you bad it’s always been for you,” Lottie explained, her voice thick with tears. “Like just last week I remembered when you were like 16 and how you used to have to take two buses from school to that cafe so you could get extra cash for us, mum and your medication. You worked your arse off earning that money, and I don’t know… it’s just outstanding to me how you did it,” Lottie exhaled in one big breath after that, and Louis sensed she needed to say it.  
  
“Thanks, Lott it means the world coming from you,” Louis said quietly, fond and awed at his little sister, who much like himself, tended to take on the world by herself at such a young age.Louis and Lottie understood each other in that way. They knew, even from miles away, if the other was feeling wrong, sad or lonely. They both learned that the world could be rough, unfair and take away things that your heart cherished the most.  
  
Lottie had roughly faced that fact at twelve years old, when she’d had to find Louis at eighteen, lying cold on their tiny bathroom floor, passed out and barely breathing, vomit fresh by the side of his face and eyes bloodshot, his pupils black and no hint of blue anywhere in sight. The shower had been running, and the sink had been overflowing with water, soaking the floor and finally their hallway. Lottie had gotten worried and had knocked on the bathroom door to ask Louis if the toilet had broken again. Never getting a response, she’d worried and had finally opened it to check inside. The scream was heard all through the house.  
  
Jay had sped up the stairs yelling for her daughter, but Lottie never heard her, screaming and crying as she shook Louis’ shoulder, failed attempts to wake him up. Lottie probably remembers blurs of screams and panicked phone calls with 999. She probably remembers her mother sticking four fingers down her brother’s throat and forcing his stomach to spasm and let out some of the pills he’d ingested. How she locked Felicité in a room with her, trying to shield her as she cried and cried for what felt like hours. Lottie hadn’t understood exactly what had happened with Louis, but she knew it wasn’t some sickness he’d caught. Louis had been depressed for too long, and he’d never voiced his feelings, bottling it up until he’d thought it was the perfect time to die. The last years of his school life were dark but valuable lessons he learned to take from. Louis hated going back to that time. It reminded him of the loud thoughts he used to have every night before going to bed. How he closed off and refused to let, Liam, worry about his somber feelings. That’s why he buried himself in work and somehow, it paid off in the end.  
  
Growing up, he had bent himself over backward to earn as much money as possible. He would work four jobs in a week and travel to every side of Doncaster. He used to wake at four A.M. to start one of his jobs at a tiny cafe. He’d go to school and then take the bus to the local football court, to clean benches and sell hot dogs. He’d finish and arrive home exhausted and worn down, with enough money in his pockets to fill another set of medicine and monthly appointments. He’d barely have time to do homework, and his mother would cry herself to sleep whenever his report cards mirrored the amount of work he had to put on everything else. He knew it was tough, but thankfully, because of this he grew more mature and faced the hard fact that his mother needed him alive and well.  
  
Lottie is the one who stays at the house now and wakes up at ungodly hours of the morning every day to take Phoebe and Daisy to school. She picks them up afterward and makes enough time to take them places, so they don’t end up locked up in the house all week. Dan Deakin, Louis’ second step-father, looks after the baby twins - Doris and Ernest - mostly, but all of them together could be an unstoppable team. Louis never failed to feel pride for his family, how they’d somehow found strength after the tragic loss of their mother.  
  
Jay died after a courageous fight against an aggressive form of Leukemia. She was brave and kind, but she was also a giver. Jay taught Louis more than anyone else, how to give to others. She showed her kids to love and be loved, to give so they could receive and to never hesitate to help someone when they deserve it. She smiled widely for the world to see and therefore empowered her daughters to do the same as her. They are a clear representation of who their mother was. A vivid memory of what she could do, and for that Louis is thankful, he always is.  
  
“I miss Mum Lotts,” Louis confesses brokenly, voice tired and cracked. He heard Lottie take a breath.  
  
“We all do. Energy has shifted a lot since she left. Not just in the house but the whole town seemed to feel it with us. The girls are getting better though” She paused, composing herself as she sighed heavily. “Dan is still so quiet, he doesn’t get much sleep. I can’t sometimes sleep either, you know? I kind of remember her and then I’m up all night pacing,” Lottie explains sadly, her voice ringing through Louis’ empty apartment.  
  
He lifts his head and throws it back onto the wall, looking up at the London night sky for answers. “I get it, Lotts. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m so proud of everything you do. You’ve grown up to be an outstanding girl. I can’t help but admire your strength,” He said fervently. “You do things no other nineteen-year-olds could, and for that I, thank you. Thank you, for taking care of the girls. I’m sorry, I can’t always be there, but I’ll try to be there more often, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” She agreed softly, kettle whistling on her side of the phone. “God… what a sappy pair we become at 3 A.M. Let’s move to lighter subjects,” She requested, shaking themselves from the crying session they just processed.  
  
They talked for a long while after that, Lottie explaining how she had some Uni projects to finish and how they drained her with work every day. She told Louis about the girls and their first days of school. How the littlest twins had just been enrolled in a fancy toddler school not too far away from their home. Fizzy had apparently gotten herself a new boyfriend, and Louis promised to go by soon and spook him for a bit. They laughed and gossiped about Doncaster’s latest scandals before Lottie declared she needed to try at least to sleep for a while before taking the girls to school in the morning. Louis sent her his best and once again promised to visit as soon as he could.  
  
Hanging up he was left, once again, with his quiet apartment. He sat there for a while longer until his bum started to numb a bit, so then he stood up and left his cereal bowl in the sink before heading to his bedroom once more. In there, he turned his lamp off and faded into a restless sleep, weary of knowing how tired he'd be in the morning.

 

+

“Li, I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t like it when I have to deal with this kind of stuff,” Louis groaned as he locked his Audi from the entrance of his record label the sign above him elegant and bright, Triple Strings LTD. 

“Lou mate, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do much, go see if you can convince him yourself,” Liam said in defeat as he seemed to shuffle some papers around from the other side of the phone.  
“Liam,” Louis said warningly eyebrows furrowing, “What do you mean ‘go see if you can convince him’? Is he- Is he in the building?!” Louis asked disbelieving, his gaze glancing up to the top of his building and back down to the entrance where his secretary sat looking worriedly at him from the other side of the glass doors.  
  
Liam groaned and made other non-human noises before he sighed loudly into the speaker. “Did I not mention it?” He asked knowing that he hadn’t, indeed, mentioned it.  
  
“No you absolute dickhead, you didn’t happen to mention this Harry kid was going to be such a fucking problem,” Louis bellowed as he swung the glass door open and approached the front desk. “Well calm your tits first of all because I’m pretty sure this can’t be nobody's fault but Harry Styles'. Another thing- his manager mentioned he’s pretty stubborn and doubts you will be able to convince him but hey, never know man,” Liam said breezily as he noisily sipped an almost empty cup of something, the straw hissing in Louis’ ear.  
  
Louis stared at the ceiling in frustration as he tried to call on a sliver of patience from above. “Well thank you for the heads up and fuck you Li, no more FIFA for a month. Goodbye,” He stated, tone clipped as he briefly hung up for dramatic effect, and to cut Liam off in the middle of one of his long rants.  
  
In effect, he hadn’t had such a good morning. He’d started his day retching his lovely breakfast into the toilet before he’d thrown the rest back up in the shower, as he got ready for work. He’d felt weak for part of his daily e-mail answering morning and had finally taken the wrong lyric book to the label, noticing when he’d already been halfway through heavy traffic.  
  
Louis pinched the bridge of his nose and looked pointedly at Sarah, his lovely secretary who looked as worried as Louis had ever seen her. “Sarah?” Louis asked warningly quiet, trying not to scream at the top of his lungs for mercy.  
  
Sarah looked at him cautiously for a second as if testing out if she should say anything.“Look, Lou, I tried to tell him he couldn’t just waltz upstairs and wait for you. But he- uh, he seemed very decided. Even tried to bribe me with donuts, which I did not accept, of course,” She explained, her foot kicking a suspicious looking box underneath her desk, half a donut left in it from the top of the transparent lid.Louis raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her, “Thanks for the efforts Sarah, you seemed to put up a fight,” Louis said drily, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he approached the elevator.  
  
“Sorry Lou,” She called back not sounding sorry at all. Louis rolled his eyes fondly, not having much energy in him to hold on to anger or irritation. He pressed the last button that would take him straight to his office where he braced himself to meet with the infamous, Harry Styles.

+

The elevator doors dinged before smoothly sliding open. Just as Louis took the first step off the elevator a deep, honey filled voice laced through the quiet, empty office in panic.  
  
“Look, I’m so sorry. I know how this looks but before you say anything, I just want to say that I didn’t mean to- Wow,’’ The voice seemed surprised with Louis all of a sudden and Louis searched around the waiting area of his studio for the person. He spotted him in one of the sofas, silhouette tall and broad, hair styled perfectly on top of his head, dressed in what looked suspiciously like a very expensive outfit, paired with the stance of a carefree teenage boy. Louis zeroed on his face, and suddenly the world took on slow motion for a while. Harry Styles’ eyes were vibrant green, his eyelashes casting the perfect shadows onto his cheeks. His mouth plump and pink, lips pouty and deliciously perfect. His nose had a sharp tip that made him a thousand times prettier, and his jawline was boldly cast on the side of his face, making him a perfect combination of a man-boy.

Louis raised both eyebrows in surprise, trying not to sigh dreamily at the handsome man in front of him. He even searched within himself for the slivers of annoyance and professionalism that still floated around his mind, trying to set up the strictest tone of voice and most serious face he could manage.  
  
Harry Styles didn’t look too well either, his rosy lips hanging open, eyes a little surprised, broad and confused.   
  
Louis broke the static silence in the end, “Well, before you keep rambling let me at least put my stuff down. My arms are getting tired,” he says as he tries to appear taller, walking off to the side where he places his briefcase and tea.  
  
Harry is at a loss for words for a while, fish-mouthing and stumbling over himself, “Uh- Y-yeah no, I mean yes! No but... I guess I, what I mean is that-” He placed a - God was anything in this man ugly? - Slender and long finger on his lip, rings catching on the overhead lights as he seemed to try to anchor himself and get what he wanted to say in order. His eyebrows were scrunched in concentration and, if they had been in any other situation, Louis would have found his slow pace for words endearing as hell.  
  
“Look,” Harry said, finally ending a word without stuttering. “Jeff called a few weeks back, and he said he could find me some songwriters for the album,” He explained his giant hands all over the place, gesturing for every word he spoke. “Of course I agreed; I don’t have much experience with music. But I didn’t think he’d thought so little of me that he was actually planning for other people to create my entire album for me. I got mad; I told him to let me write the songs with the songwriters, but, he continued to say no. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and track the songwriters down,” Harry continued, gesturing with wide fingers to Louis’ form.

Louis raised an eyebrow and questioned if he should’ve felt offended but, let it go as he kept talking, “So the first name on the list was your name. I knew you wouldn't talk to me unless I waited up here. I asked Sarah if I could go up but she said she'd only let me up if I got her a set of donuts’’ Louis muttered a triumphant ‘Knew it,’ under his breath but that didn’t stop Harry’s rant anyway. “-so I bought them and then came up here. I guess I was expecting you to be a 50-year-old snobby musician or something and not… Well you,” Harry said exhaling a self-deprecating laugh afterward, a tiny smile starting to bloom on his lips, dimple shyly seeming to form on his right cheek.  
  
"Uhh, thank you?" Louis said indecisively as he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, still trying to process his story.  
  
Harry has a look of horror as he believes he's offended Louis, so he quickly backtracks, "N-not that you look  _worse_ than an old person but better! Better as in you look younger and-"

"Harry, love, calm down," Louis says with a hint of amusement, trying not to coo at Harry's obvious inexperience. He looks somewhat appeased but still has a bit of guilt stuck in his face. "I understand where you're coming from," He explains and a glimmer of hope appears in the curly boys' eyes. "But," Louis emphasizes giving him a pointed look, "I try to work alone most of the time. Songwriting is a hard process and I try to always do it by myself so I can really get some lyrics going," Louis explains dishearteningly, his chest seeming to deflate with his words as he sees Harry’s eyes suddenly droop in disappointment too. Louis’ heart twists painfully but not for the usual reason. "I'm afraid that if I let you help, the songs won't turn out as good, and I honestly only want what's best for your record," He explains though he can't help but feel like his words are coming from the bad guy's point of view. He hates it.  
  
Harry hesitates for a second, seeming to want to insist, but in the end only nods solemnly, hair falling messily to the front of his face as his shoulders slump, posture suddenly deflating like Louis’ heart not two seconds ago. He rakes a ring-filled hand through his tousled hair and lets it fall back where it’d been before, eyes suddenly glued to the ground and a blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Louis had a certain distance he liked to keep with his clients. Afterall, they're taking his very real and actual feelings written down in a song and spreading it all across the world. He'd been very clear with Liam though: he'd never minded them using the songs, as long as he never had to have any actual relations or communications with the people that took them. Harry asking to be a part of that process made the whole very-detailed-routine in his head crumble to the ground. 

He liked being alone and he'd been alone ever since moving to London. Ever since his mother had passed and ever since Zayn had left. He was okay with it because he was used to that, to being by himself, eventually. He knew in his head that having the attractive man-boy before him in his studio would change his comfortable dynamic and he couldn't risk it. He just could not.

To make matters worse, Harry then looks at Louis straight in the eye, and Louis wishes he’d just walked out instead of doing that, making Louis regret his decision by the second.

Harry places his hands together and directs them towards Louis in the form of gratefulness, all polite and gorgeous and then nods once, defeated. “I understand then; I won’t take up much more of your time. I am genuinely very sorry for barging in like this. I don’t usually do this kind of stuff but with my music… I just sort of feel very protective of it,” Harry’s voice drawls out in slow, syrupy vibrations, every word he speaks seems to have as much importance as the last.

Louis grimaces because, Harry Styles couldn't be serious right now, no of course not, he was obviously being punk’d or something. Was Harry Styles for real? No, he wasn’t.

He didn't need his sullen and sad face this early in the morning. He had a routine goddamnit! He had a specific step by step way in which his life moved. His studio and his writing process was one of them. The only reason he ever let Liam write with him was because they knew and understood each other like the back of their own hands, it wasn't hard to open up to Liam. 

 _It would be a chance to do something exciting for once,_ his brain whispered and he hated it for the comment. He knew that it had been a while since he'd traveled or partied, but he was also aware of the fact that he enjoyed not doing any of those things. He was fine hanging out at his apartment on Friday nights. Sure, somedays he wished he could move around without wheezing for air and maybe he'd been banned from going to clubs because of the stress-levels it caused to simply stay upright with all the bodies dancing but he was  _okay._

Louis feels a sudden desire to slump against a wall. They’d only talked for two minutes, and he was already exhausted. Damn you, Lopressor. 

“Well, I guess I’ll be on my way," Harry says as he turns toward the elevator doors. "Thank you for your time Louis, it was a pleasure meeting you,” Harry says all chivalrous and mighty as he walks.

Louis nods dumbfounded by the maturity of the boy and watches incredulously at his profile. Most guys his age would've flipped Louis off and they would have changed to a different songwriter, some would've thrown a fit, but Harry had  _thanked him._ Louis _was_ truly exhausted.

Maybe a minute passed where he just kept staring until the ding of the doors shook him out of his perplexed trance. Just before the metal doors could finish sliding closed, Louis placed a hand between them in desperation, heart suddenly starting up again.

  
“Wait,” Louis shouted, making Harry look up suddenly, who’d seemed to have been trapped in his mind as well, the whole time.

“Yeah?” Harry asked confused, brows furrowed, making him look like a confused puppy. There were glimmers of hope blooming in his eyes and Louis fought everything in him not to smile at that, looking at the ceiling once more as he tried to collect himself.

“Just- stay. But I swear to God, you can’t bother me at all, and you can’t change my songs, and you can’t touch anything. Understand?” Louis said sternly though with his raspy, high-pitched voice it was always kind of hard to take himself seriously at all.  
  
Harry nodded jerkily, his hair bouncing with the movement as he stepped off the elevator excitedly. He shrieked quietly, actually shrieked, and then hugged Louis without any sort of warning. His arms were wide and long around Louis' frame, so they engulfed all of him and almost came all the way back to his chest again. He squeezed him tightly and Louis could only awkwardly place his own hands by Harry's middle and pray that was enough of a hug for him.   
  
Harry let go after a second and smiled down at Louis excitedly, "I swear I won't bother you at all. It'll be like I'm not even here. I'll just chime in when I  _really_ think I need to," He says as he walks backward towards Louis' studio, not too far away from the elevators.   
  
Louis hums and looks at him suspiciously before he nods and walks into his little haven. There he places his stuff down once more before he turns back to Harry again, a hand stretched towards Harry who catches on quickly and shakes it vigorously. 

Louis had not gotten enough sleep last night, so he could blame the sudden warmth and tingling in his hand, to the lack of rest. Yeah.

“Don’t believe we introduced ourselves properly back there. Louis, Louis Tomlinson,” Louis said softly in the quiet hum of the sound-proofed room. Louis could see from where he stood the clothes Harry was wearing and willed himself not to smile because. Well, shit.

Harry Styles was dressed in the most frilly and 'look at me, I'm here' shirt with the fanciest pair of black pants and some silver colored boots that somehow looked perfect with his clothes. It was such a statement in itself that Louis immediately knew Harry was going to be a character.

“Harry Styles, real honor, and pleasure to meet you,” He stated, mirth dancing in his eyes, almost like he knew Louis’ thoughts. He had a firm handshake, and Louis dully noted this on the back of his head. Harry let go quickly, and Louis’ hand suddenly felt empty. Huh.  
  
“Well,” Louis clapped his hands together, giving himself an excuse to snap out of his trance. “This is where all the magic happens, and over there on that couch is where you’ll sit quietly and not bothering me as I set up the computers and panels,” Louis explained offhandedly, pointing to the velvet couch in the far corner of the spacious studio. Harry glanced towards it and nodded once more as he made his way there, tall figure and shiny shoes gliding across the carpeted floor. Louis gave a soft sigh to his machinery as if they would have the answer to all his problems. Maybe not.  
  
Louis proceeded to immerse himself in the computers and monitors that filled half the room in front of him. He switched sliders and set up different mixers in his computers.

Growing up Louis loved seeing engineers turn the machines on, he liked to imagine they were pilots getting airplanes ready for take-off and if he let himself think it, he sometimes still did so too.

After 20 minutes of starting up the studio, Louis finally turned to Harry who looked fascinated by something and Louis gave him a questioning look. “What is it? Is there something on my face?” Louis teased as he held back a grin watching Harry’s lopsided smile and wondering eyes.  
  
“N-no sorry, It’s just that you should see yourself when you’re doing.. that,” He gestured offhandedly to the panels. “You look like an orchestra conductor or something, it’s incredible,” Harry explained softly in the quiet booth, still sounding a little awed.  
  
Louis willed his blush to lower down his neck again and pressed a finger to his chest, in case his heart decided to interfere now. So Harry Styles called him fascinating, sue him for blushing. He bit down on the smile that threatened to appear and shook his head softly at Harry. “Well no more admiring me for today. Let’s get to work now, shall we?” Louis asked grinning, finally turning back to his desk and gestured for Harry to join him with a guitar so they could begin.

+

 

It’d been only an hour, and Harry had managed to distract Louis and himself entirely, causing Louis to smile like an unstoppable fucking lovesick teenager. They’d only gotten the first verse and wisps of the chorus for one of the songs down. Louis was somehow not complaining.

In the hour they'd sat together Harry had managed to further prove how adorable he was.   
  
He explained how his biggest role models were his mum and sister and showed him his tattoos dedicated to each one. "The A and G are the most obvious. Then there's Gems name in Hebrew and a little iced gem as a reference to her chilhood nickname," He had explained excitedly as they'd paused to talk about tattoos. 

Louis explained some of his but kept the major ones to himself. He didn't feel ready to talk about his past, his heart or family with Harry just yet. He preferred to keep the illusion as long as he could manage.

It was after they'd exchanged some ideas about what concept Harry had for the album that Louis briefly excused himself.

“ _What?_ ” Liam deadpanned into the phone, voice tired and sounded ready to scold the fuck out of Louis if provoked too harshly.

Louis shivered at the prospect but continued, “Why the fuck would you not mention Harry Styles is a Greek god, slash angel lowered from above to test me and my self-control?” Louis asked, voice as casual as he could manage.  
  
Liam sighed and pronounced some unholy words away from the speaker. “ _Louis, I swear to God. I’ve had to deal all day with some major journalist dickheads who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I don’t have time for your teenage breakdowns_ ,” Liam warned as he seemed to be walking down a busy street. Louis grinned.  
  
“Look Li, I’m trying to be professional here but you should _see_ the guy. He’s sweet and handsome and polite and so much more. It’s only been an hour. Just tell me he’s straight, so I can have peace of mind,” Louis pleaded with his most sweet voice, knowing fully well Liam could find out in less than a second from his thousands of different sources.  
  
“ _You know, when I decided to work with you as your colleague and manager, someone should have drafted a contract, promising I would never try to drive across town to strangle you,_ ” Liam replied flatly. The street noise suddenly quieted, like he’d stepped outside of the street and into a building.  
  
Louis cooed mockingly, “Oh Li, always the absolute sweetheart at this hour of the morning,” Louis said, voice sweet as Liam clicked away on his phone.  
  
A minute passed before Liam put Louis back on. He announced with the most bored tone he seemed to manage, “ _He said in a recent interview, that Harry has ‘never felt the need to label his sexuality_ ,’" Liam explained sounding far away as he read from his phone. " _That it’s something ‘he’s never had to explain to himself,_ ” _if that answers your question at all,_ ” Liam said, annoyance as clear as day.  
  
“Thanks, Li. Would've loved a heads up though” Louis says, fingers itching to fumble as he paces the small bathroom he was hiding in.  
  
“ _Yeah yeah, whatever you minx, just keep it PG and don’t do anything stupid. Thank you_ ,” Liam pleaded tiredly, then proceeded to hang up the phone before Louis could finish with his own comeback.

So Harry couldn’t be specific, and Louis' brains were slowly melting away from the confusion. It’d been so long since he’d felt attracted to anyone. Almost two whole years of drought to be clear.  
  
Louis squeezed his hands into fists and willed his short nails to dig into the skin, grounding himself to the present and to sweet Harry Styles only a room away. ‘Get a grip it’s only been two hours since you met him, Jesus,’ Louis head declared but it still sounded a lot suspiciously like Liam. Louis was aware that it had been two hours, but it was impossible not to notice the particular charismatic and electrifying pull the boy had towards himself. No wonder he’d broken North America so easily, he was adorable.  
  
Louis sighed and shook his head. He had to pull himself together and act like a professional, no need to fuss so much over Harry Styles. Either way, he would be gone once they finished the songs in a few days and that would be the end of this torture for Louis. ‘Yeah’ he thought decisively, ‘I can hold on a few days.'

+

In the end, Louis discovered, he couldn’t even hang on for another hour. At least forty-five minutes into their session Harry got a phone call. They were in the middle of humming some melodies for the second verse of the first song when Harry jumped all of a sudden. His phone had started vibrating in his pocket. In turn, Harry’s sudden start sent Louis into a painful jolt of his own, sending pinching daggers to Louis’ chest. Louis grimaced but decided to play it off as he’d just gotten terrified. “I’m so sorry,” Harry said, noticeably holding back a laugh as he placed a soft hand on Louis’ shoulder, his dimple on full display as he bit his lip and held his damned ringing phone on the other.

“Yeah yeah, just answer before I also get a headache,” Louis said heavily, two fingers pressing down on his chest to distract the pinching on the inside. Harry hesitated for a beat, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he stood up and walked to the door of the studio.He did look sorry though, so Louis let him go quickly. It didn’t take Harry long to come back after that. Only two minutes had passed where Louis had continued humming with his guitar to close the second verse when Harry came back in, a tiny smile on his face as he listened to one of the first songs in his album come to life.  
  
_‘Running with the thieves, cause you left me in the hallway.’_  
  
Louis winked playfully as he finished humming all of what they’d gotten so far and Harry sat back down, rose tint high on his cheeks. “Sorry bout’ that. It was just my friend Alexa calling to check in on me,” Harry said while rubbing the nape of his neck self-deprecatingly. Louis would have found that endearing if the name ‘Alexa’ hadn’t caught on so fast to his attention. He cleared his throat once and sat up straighter in his seat, schooling his features to be casual and conversational, though inside he was brimming with curiosity.  
  
“Oh no, don’t worry," Louis assured quickly. He paused for a moment but decided to damn his filters to hell.  "Is… Alexa, your girlfriend?” Louis asked as naturally and uncaring as he could manage, his hands playing with a pen as he refused to make eye contact with Harry, scared he might see his whole act and know exactly what Louis was thinking.  
  
Harry paused for a second, before he honked out the ugliest, but somehow most adorable, laugh Louis had ever heard. Harry clapped a big, ringed hand to his mouth as if that would muffle the sound. His eyes were scrunched shut, and his body fell back on the backrest of the couch, legs lifting as he kept silently laughing. Louis could say he probably felt offended though he wasn’t sure. Harry’s laugh had him completely entranced and maybe a little scared.  
  
“What's funny?" Louis said, suddenly feeling embarrassment seep into his body. He realized that Alexa was probably not Harry’s girlfriend at all and that maybe ‘you shouldn’t have even asked that in the first place,’ his head chastised matter of factly, but Louis ignored it.  
  
“N-no sorry,” Harry said, shaking himself out of his own amusement and looking at Louis through his lashes, earnestly, “It’s just that Alexa is really like a big sister to me. I think that this is the first time I’ve ever heard ‘Alexa’ and ‘girlfriend’ in the same sentence,” He explained, giggles leaving him almost involuntarily.  
  
Louis groaned loud and clear, “Shut up ok? I just- I thought I was keeping you from something and didn’t want to get in the way so…” Louis said already knowing what an idiot he was. He wanted to dig a hole in the floor right about then and hide there until Harry Styles left. He could feel his neck getting hot in shame, but before he could sink any deeper into his self-depreciating thoughts, Harry’s hand shot out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder, fingers soft and calming as he squeezed in reassurance. Louis recalls forgetting how to breathe.  
  
“Don’t worry, and you’re not keeping me from anything anyway. I decided to come here. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Music will always be my priority,” Harry said, voice sure. Not for the first time, he sounded years above his age. He looked wise and mature like he’d lived thousands of lives before this one.  
  
Louis could say he was speechless, but it would be embarrassing to admit the number of times Harry had taken his breath away in the last two hours. Louis took a moment to nod at Harry’s words and finally looked up, making eye contact with the curly haired boy, “I respect that. Not many guys your age talk like that. Kudos to you,” Louis said, for the first time letting his transparent impression show.

Harry transformed into an adorable boy again and blushed, moving his hand around exaggeratedly, “Oh, stop it you,” He said while thrashing like a rag doll, compliments affecting him all of a sudden.  
  
Louis laughed then, wide and big. It took him by surprise to realize he hadn’t smiled or laughed like that in a while. He mourned the time lost not being more joyful and noted in his mind to try to enjoy moments like these more often.  
  
“So how about we finish this last verse and we head out for some ice cream cones afterward?” Harry suggested, spinning mindlessly in one of the leather chairs by the computer screens with some melodies they’d recorded so far.  
  
Louis was just about to agree when his phone’s alarm ringed loudly, disturbing the quiet aura they'd created in the studio.

Louis started at the sound, and Harry stopped his spinning to see where it came from. It took Louis a beat to realize the alarm was his daily reminder for his medication, and just like that, his mood dropped back to its usual low. He sighed dispassionately and hit the ‘snooze’ button on the screen, turning to Harry apologetically. “I really wish I could, but I’ve got to Uh… Meet a friend in a mo’ and it’s kind of important,” Louis said, the lie popping into his head which was not a total lie given he was meeting Zayn in the evening to catch up. Louis was wondering in his head and realized how wrong that sounded, “N-not that you’re not important I mean! C-cause you are, but it’s just that I guess they come once every few months and I need to-’’  
  
“Hey hey, calm down now, I get it. We can reschedule for another day, yeah? I did kind of barge in on you, so it’s only fair that you had other plans,” Harry said, not sounding mad at all, which gave Louis enough time to consider the fact that he was right.

“Well yeah, but I had fun so… Yeah, I guess we can keep writing the songs,” Louis allowed, trying to sound fresh and cool, while in reality he just wanted to stay back and hang the rest of the day with Harry until the sun began to peek into the sky once more. Get to know his quirks, dislikes, stories and what not. _‘But,_ ’ his mind jumped in darkly, _‘you don’t get that so…_ ’  
  
He really hated his consciousness sometimes. “I’ll just give you my number so I can text you and see when we can meet again,” Harry said, and then his eyes widened in realization, “T-to song write! To write music and lyric stuff I mean,” He backtracked for a second time, alarmed, his hands awkwardly flying everywhere.  
  
Louis gave him a warm smile in return, completely endeared by Harry.  
  
“Yeah I get it, Harry, that would work just fine,” Louis said, producing a small black card from his desk and handing it to Harry. “That’s my card, and it has my number on it, yeah? Thanks for coming by. I’m glad you did, this album is going to sound great with you working on it,” Louis said, earnestly serious.  
  
“Thank you, Louis,” Harry solemnly answered back, bowing his head as he tucked the business card away in his jean pocket. “Guess I’ll see you soon,” Harry said gently, and then approached Louis with wide arms. It only took Louis a second of surprise before he accepted the hug. Harry’s wide arms were warm and welcoming; one arm hooked over his shoulders while the other circled his waist. Louis could’ve honestly stayed there forever but social barriers and pills kept him from doing so and let go after a beat.

Harry sighed and raked his ridiculous fingers through his hair once more before he left the studio and through the elevator doors too.  
  
Louis was so royally fucked.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am continuously going back, fixing and adding stuff to past chapters, so bear with me! This is still a work in progress, I'm doing everything I can to project my whole vision for this book. I really hate messy, badly written books so I'm working to improve and re-read everything to get the best grammatical structure as well. I want readers to feel involved and included as much as possible in every moment. Please let me know if you find anything annoying as well!
> 
> Love you lots and lots. x

** 3 **

“I really don’t want to Li,” Louis said defeated, only the last pill remaining in his hand.  
  
Liam sighed sadly, but looked at him decisively, “You know it’s for your own good Lou,” He said brokenly, rubbing his shoulders delicately, coaxing him slowly into taking the Lopressor.  
  
Harry had left briefly after Louis had announced he had to ‘meet a friend’ and Sarah had seen him out before calling Louis downstairs so that he could leave.

Louis breathed out once and then threw the pill back, fingers white around his water bottle as he chugged some down to swallow the insulting medication.  
  
Typically, Lopressor didn't give people many side effects - if any at all - but Louis with how his luck went, managed to get the worst two or three. He’d get nauseous, breathless and weak. If the universe conspired against him, he’d get heartburn too.  
  
He grimaced as he felt it go down and nodded at Liam once.  
  
Liam made a little sound of acknowledgment.  
  
“Do you want me to reschedule your dinner with Zayn for tomorrow?” Sarah asked. She stood a few feet away, waiting for Liam and Louis to leave so she could properly close up the building.

Groaning, he shook his head once, “No, no, we've been planning this for almost a month. He’s madly excited. I don't want to ruin that because of something so silly,” He said breezily, then started gathering his things with a faint frown.  
  
Sarah nodded, “If you say so,” she said, before walking back to her desk and turning off the lights in the lobby.  
  
Louis wished her a good night and headed outside with Liam in tow. His usual driver was parked and waiting outside in his car; as he’d usually do when his medication would disable him from driving.  
  
Liam grabbed him and wrapped him in a quick, affectionate embrace. Liam placed a tiny kiss on the side of his head before bidding him goodnight. Heading towards their own rides, both boys gave each other one last wave before getting into the cars.  
  
Inside, Louis checked his watch. He still had time to get home and lay down for a bit before he had to go to the restaurant and meet Zayn.

  
+  
  


The short drive back home, Louis began to feel the effects take over. He decided it would best to head straight to the nearest couch and battle the symptoms with a brief nap.  
  
Walking up to the porch of his house, he noticed Zayn’s car parked right next to his gate. He whispered a quiet ‘Sarah’ accusingly, as he carefully turned to his house door and spotted Zayn, sitting all casual by the steps.  
  
Louis kept walking as he tried not to let the dizziness overcome him.

“Sarah’s a traitor,” Louis announced - almost breathlessly - once he was close enough to be heard.  
  
Zayn looked up from where he’d been distracted on his phone and stood up immediately when he saw Louis.

Running, he reached Louis in time. He placed one of Louis’ arms around his neck, helping him up the last steps and into the house. 

“She’s a traitor that cares a whole lot about you Lou,” Zayn murmured, voice soft and gentle as he helped Louis lay down in one of the long sofas by the fireplace. He disappeared briefly into the kitchen and then came back a second later with a bucket; he knew very well what it was usually used for. Louis wanted to protest that they should’ve been out in the fancy restaurant, but restrained when the thought of food turned his stomach into a Ferris Wheel.  
  
Zayn placed the bucket by Louis’ side, and then sat next to him on the floor, looking all worried and soft. Louis had missed him eternally.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Louis echoed, chest slowly beginning to pressure down, leaving him breathless. “I’ve missed you a lot too,” Zayn replied immediately, gentle fingers carding through Louis’ honey-colored hair. Louis took a moment to analyze Zayn.  
  
Long lashes fanned lightly over his sharp cheekbones, and his eyes were unfocused, and half closed in the poorly lighted room. Louis smiled weakly.  
  
“You look better,” He commented as he licked his dry lips once. He placed a soothing hand on his stomach to will it to stop somersaulting painfully.

“Thanks, Lou. Been trying for the girls… so they see I’m not a complete piece of shit,” Zayn said bitterly, his eyes falling to the floor, looking away from Louis’ blue ones.  
  
Louis wanted to cry then. Maybe because he was emotional enough with everything he had going on, or because Zayn always managed to hit home, somehow. It always broke him to hear Zayn say stuff like that; as if he meant nothing to anyone.  
  
“Zayn, please don’t talk about yourself that way,” Louis said, feeling anger bubble inside of him. He despised Zayn’s obvious self-hatred, how could he not?

“Sorry,” He murmured, looking apologetic but not regretful. 

“I hate what it has done to you,” Louis said heavily and broken, his throat painful with a sob clogged in it. He didn’t usually cry either, but when he did, very few people witnessed it.  
  
Zayn just shrugged once and took Louis’ hands in his. He started to draw mindless circles in Louis’ palms like he used to do when they were younger, to get Louis distracted from any topic Zayn didn’t like to discuss any longer; it always worked.

What Louis meant by ‘it’ was the untimely passing of both of Zayn’s parents in a tragic car accident almost two years ago now. They’d been younger and more naive back then, thinking nothing could touch or hurt them.  
  
It all sobered up and changed when the call came in as Louis and Zayn were out buying groceries one night, not expecting the call when a police officer asked for him to come down to the hospital and verify the corpses of his very own parents.  


Zayn had gone with a blank face to the hospital, nodded once to the coroner before he’d let Louis take him to the airport. They’d booked a flight back to Bradford without saying a word, to announce the loss to Zayn’s sisters and general family.  
  
They hadn’t talked the whole flight, but Louis had cried the whole way there. He’d finally broken down once he’d sat down on the airplane, shoulders shaking violently as he’d sobbed and sobbed, feeling like he could never stop. He hadn’t moved the whole flight, not even when Louis had wheezed for air or when he’d reached for the inhaler in his emergency bag.  
  
He had arrived home in Bradford and called the girls to the living room, not saying anything, his face unreadable as he never showed any sign of tears or pain.  
  
They’d sat down but didn’t hug nor kiss them since they’d seen Louis’ blotchy face and Zayn’s unusually pale one. They instantly knew something was horribly wrong.  
  
Louis doesn’t remember much after that. He remembers blurry memories of the girls waking up screaming and lots and lots of crying. He remembers holding Safaa most nights when she’d have some horrific nightmares. He remembers how they stayed for a week but never seemed to see his best friend during their trip. Louis was the one who officially handed the three girls to their aunt and uncle, having been left under their custody on Trish and Yaser's will.  
  
Louis remembers the funeral and Zayn’s blank expression as they lowered the two caskets into the ground. How he'd just stood there and stared, one arm protectively wrapped around his older sister's shoulder, not comforting nor spiteful, just placed there as a message that something was still alive inside him.  
  
What still chills him to this day, is the amount of time Zayn remained silent, with dry eyes the whole time. Three full weeks of complete silence and a catatonic state of stillness. They’d flown back after the three girls had calmed down enough to be left to their own mourning. Thankfully, the Malik’s descended from an extremely wealthy family and didn’t suffer any economic blows whatsoever.  
  
Arriving back in London, Louis struggled to ask his best friend anything, but he hadn't known what else to do.“Zayn do you want to come back to my place?” He’d asked carefully, face still swollen from crying, but he feared that would make Zayn mad, or whatever he was feeling at the moment.  
  
He remembers how he'd had just stood there unmoving and unresponsive, looking past Louis' questioning gaze, as if he wasn't even there. Louis asked again but when he’d noticed Zayn wouldn’t be answering he just decided he couldn’t be left alone at all.  
  
Arriving at Louis’ past apartment, he'd locked himself in Louis’ only guest bedroom at the time and didn’t come out for almost two weeks after that.  
  
Louis worried if he even drank water when he was in there, but he did hear the Bradford boy come out at four or five A.M. to get showers and get things from the kitchen.  
  
The Day of the Breakdown, as Louis still labeled it, finally arrived on a Sunday at four in the morning.  Louis had just been slipping into another restless sleep when he’d heard a loud crash and a soft cry come from down the hall.  
  
He’d been instantly out of bed and running as fast as he could to the source of the sound.  
  
He remembers fearing for his life that Zayn had killed himself and had felt a cold vice wrap around his throat as he threw the door open.  
  
He was met then with a sobbing boy, tiny figure tucked into a corner of the vast room, sitting next to a broken lamp, head buried between his knees, his whole body shaking with dark and broken sobs. He knew it was his best friend, but the amount of grief and sadness that consumed his body turned him almost unrecognizable. He was quietly chanting ‘I need them, I need them,’ over and over without stopping once for air.  
  
Louis had whimpered at the sight, stomach dropping instantly. He’d enveloped him in his arms, tucking him as close to his body as he could. Zayn had instantly latched onto Louis, hands gripping and pulling tightly on the hem of Louis’ shirt.  
  
Louis let him; he knew he had to give him anything right then and there.  Zayn spent most of that day crying and even screaming, just laying in that same corner, all sad and weak, calling his parents’ name over and over, breaking Louis’ heart, even more, every time. But after that day things began to get better little by little, baby steps all the way.  
  
Zayn started to talk a bit more every day. Asking for things across the table or requesting something whenever Louis went grocery shopping. Somedays were better, but others were like going back to square one, where Zayn couldn’t even get out of bed with how crippling his depression got. Just a mention or an article on an old paper would trigger him to break down into a state of heartbreaking sorrow. Other times all it took was a memory or thought to send Zayn straight into another long period of darkness. Louis suffered and worried with him every time.  
  
Every day he’d have to go to Uni, he’d hesitate at least twice, before stepping out of his apartment. He’d pray every day for a year as he’d get into his car that Zayn wouldn’t be depressed enough to make Louis arrive home one day only to find him dead on his floor. He’d shiver at the thought now, but back then things were bad enough that it wouldn’t seem as chilling.  
  
He clearly remembers the day he arrived home one day and found his best friend sitting in his living room with all his bags packed. Louis’ heart had sunk at the sight and he’d almost seen white with rage.  
  
How could Zayn just pack up and leave so easily, after having Louis suffer and worry sick over his well-being every day for a year? How could he even contemplate the idea of leaving Louis behind, only Liam to keep him company in London?  
  
He’d felt crushed and betrayed. Hadn't he even had the guts to let him know beforehand? He’d just woken up and packed everything like Louis was just some idiot that had given him a bed to sleep on for a few months-

“I need you to step out of your mind Lou,” Zayn had added in loudly over his thoughts, almost as if he’d been listening to Louis’ head. He’d stood up and walked around his packed bags, looking at Louis sadly but with a glint of decisiveness in them as well. 

“What is this?” Louis had asked, cold and distant.  
  
“I am going away but it’s not how it looks,” Zayn had said, calmly. “I need to step out of the city, Lou. I need time to think and find my heart again. It’s become toxic not only for me but you too. I see how worried and anxious you’ve become. I know it’s keeping you from performing well in your classes and I know that you’re scared every day to leave me alone,” He had muttered, stepping cautiously closer to Louis as he spoke. “I am going away, someplace quiet and far away for a while. I need space to think and connect my mind with my heart,” Zayn had explained sadly but surely. “I know this will hurt you, but you have Liam. I’ve never been too good for anyone and Liam knows you better than anyone. He’s smart and sweet and healthy, Lou.”  
  
“I can’t be that for you right now. You’re fragile enough as you are, you don’t need me making that worse,” He said as he softly placed a warm hand against Louis’ chest, right where a million scars laid, right over his heart. “I need to do this for myself, to get better and get me back to somewhere I can carry on. For you and the girls.”

Louis faintly remembers a mess of tears, denial, and goodbyes. Before he knew it, Zayn was gone, and Liam, somehow, knew exactly how to get the pieces, that were left of his heart, back together.  
  
Louis had never completely stopped worrying, but Zayn did call. He never told Louis where he was, but he still managed to Skype and texted him as regularly as he could. After a year of Zayn’s retreat, he began to fly back more often, slowly restoring his place in London from wherever he’d gone. He still left quite often, but since the passing of Jay he didn’t stay away as long, he came back and always visited Louis before anyone else, which Louis was more than thankful for.  
  
That brought him back to the present though where he could see Zayn sitting next to him, still playing with Louis’ hands. He was now observing Louis, a knowing look in his eyes.   
  
“You were reminiscing,” Zayn said silently, not really asking, but stating what he knew was true. The room was dead-quiet, the AC's hum the only barrier between the ringing of the silence in the room. His best friend was still sitting by the side of the sofa, his other hand stroking softly across Louis' short fringe.   
  
Louis nodded weakly, the weight in the chest making him struggle to sigh. He looked at the ceiling, grounding his thoughts back to the present. “I wish I could just make it all better Z,” Louis confessed wistfully, eyes wandering around the dimly lit room, looking for the answer to all his problems.  
  
Zayn didn’t say anything but slowly placed his forehead in Louis’ hands, letting Louis’ fingers slide up and caress his hair affectionately.  
  
Zayn hummed in recognition, burying his face in Louis’ side, hands mindlessly drawing circles in Louis' tummy, somewhat soothing rising nausea in his throat. “Someday it’s all gonna be alright,” Zayn said with an air of finality to their conversation, the room fading as Louis felt the exhaustion of the medication, his thoughts, and Zayn’s soft hands, lulling him into a deep sleep.  


+

Louis woke up the next morning with a warm set or arms wrapped protectively around his waist, his head tucked between Zayn’s chin and collarbone. He sighed deeply into Zayn’s chest breathing his familiar and homely scent in. He’d missed Zayn and their cuddly mornings together.  
  
To the untrained eye, their dynamic would’ve been, without a doubt, set aside as two boyfriends having a lazy day in, but anyone who knew them, also knew better.  
Louis and Zayn met each other when Louis was sixteen and had just sold his first song to a major record label. Zayn had been looking for a songwriter to help him out and teach him a few guitar lessons. He had plans of becoming a famous artist, and he didn’t mind how It would come about.  
  
A mutual friend somehow managed to make them meet up, and from there, they were inseparable. Zayn had put out a wonderful album a year after his parent's passing - Mind Of Mine - which had received outstanding reviews from well-known A-list musicians. It had surpassed expectations and easily fitted as the number one in many International charts. He'd won some awards (Louis had been so proud he'd cried with joy the day he'd seen Zayn's dear fancy shelf of shiny trophies) and collaborated with a few names ranging from Sia to Nicki Minaj. He'd stepped out for the last two years, but everyone knew that the moment Zayn decided to step back in, people would welcome him with open arms.  
  
To the outside world, Zayn looked tough, cool and slick, a macho streak always undergoing his persona. In reality, Zayn was incredibly gentle, funny, and witty. Louis and Zayn always understood each other - given both of them had the luck of growing up around a bunch of sisters - Louis and Zayn were brothers like Louis and Liam had always been. They adored each other to the moon and back, and as siblings went, they both knew how far their love stretched.

“G’morning Lou,” Zayn’s voice suddenly said, muffled by Louis’ hair. 

Louis rubbed his cheek in acknowledgment, “Thought it was all a dream,” Louis said, voice raspy and tired.  
  
Zayn chuckled silently, “Never. I think I’m here to stay,” Zayn said, voice equally groggy with sleep. Zayn’s words made Louis pause for a second.  
  
“Stay?” Louis asked cautiously but happily, his eyes crinkling as he sat up and stared at him intently, waiting for elaboration with a growing smile.  
  
“Yeah, stay as in ‘no more going away unless it’s on vacation with you and the girls’ kind of stay,” Zayn said reassuringly, his smile matching Louis’ wide one.  
  
“Oh my god!” Louis exclaimed happily. He tackled Zayn in turn; making Zayn gasp out, the air rushing out of him as Louis landed an elbow on his stomach in the midst of his enthusiastic embrace.  
  
“Louis geroff,’ you're suffocating me,” Zayn gasped as Louis kept on crushing him with his weight on purpose.  
  
“Never. I’m happy now, and you have to deal with it,” Louis announced loudly as he kissed Zayn wetly all over his forehead just as Louis knew Zayn hated the most.  
  
Zayn yelped in surprise, “Stop it, Louis, that’s disgusting!” He exclaimed, accent thicker when he raised his voice. He weakly tried to pry Louis’ fingers off his body, to no avail.  
  
“No!” Louis yelled and hooked both legs around Zayn’s flailing frame successfully managing to stay latched on to Zayn as he tried to stand from the bed.  
  
“I swear to God, I’ll call Liam and tell him to shave your head tonight,” Zayn threatened as he forcefully tried to pull Louis’ tight hold from his arms, finger by finger once again.

Louis stopped for a second as he processed what Zayn had just said. He let go of Zayn and started wagging his eyebrows suggestively then. “So… you’ll call Liam now, is it?” Louis asked teasingly, noting in his head to give as much shit to Liam as possible for this later.  
  
Zayn turned a hundred times redder and looked away from Louis’ smoldering stare. “Stop that Lewis, you know he’s just a friend,” Zayn insisted weakly as he stood up and walked out of the room and into the kitchen not checking to see if Louis was following.  
  
Louis didn’t miss a beat before he began to follow him, “Oh ‘just a friend.’ Is that what we gays call them now?” Louis asked, knowing exactly what made Zayn squirm. Perks of knowing Zayn too long came in handy once in a while.  
  
Zayn groaned embarrassed and hid his face deep in the fridge. He pretended to look for imaginary juice, they both knew - fully well - wouldn’t be there since Louis would probably be caught dead before he actually stocked anything in his fridge. The furthest he’d gone so far was jars of water.

And almost as if the universe aligned to amuse Louis for a while, a voice called, “Louis?” Sounding definitely like Liam’s from downstairs by the main entrance.  
  
Louis squeaked in delight.  
  
“Oh, shit this just got a thousand times better,” Louis mock-whispered to a pale-faced Zayn, who all of a sudden seemed to consider making a quick escape through the second-story, kitchen window.  
  
“Up here Lima bean,” Louis said, tone honey-sweet and giddy. Liam's heavy boots - that he never seemed to leave behind bounded up the stairs as he took two at a time; oblivious to the mess he was about to walk into.  
  
“Urgh Louis. You know I hate it when you call me that-’’ Liam said annoyed as he swung the kitchen door open. His rant cut short when he spotted Zayn - not two feet away from him - with only his boxers and a crinkled loose shirt, which he’d probably taken out from one of his bags, the night before.

Several beats passed where no one said anything. A pin could've dropped, and they would have probably heard it.

Then, Louis, always the little shit said, "Surprise!" And everything resumed, both Zayn and Liam stood wide-eyed as they realized where they were. Liam suddenly was reduced to a blushing high school boy with a massive crush and Zayn, a stuttering mess nonetheless. Louis just needed popcorn now.  
  
“Liam! Uh- I- Y-you, I mean I- when, um, h-how are you?” Zayn finished, looking ready to stab forks in his eyes as he rubbed his shoulders anxiously. "I- I mean how you've uh- b-been and- yeah?" Even Louis was embarrassed by that one.  
  
Liam looked like a deer caught in headlights; he didn’t do any better as he blinked owlishly at Zayn, for a beat too long to be casual, before he seemed to shake himself from his shock all too suddenly. “I- uh, I am… good?” Liam asked, sweet dumb Liam actually asked. Louis could have married them right there, they were too adorable.  
  
After a while of epic awkward silence, Louis felt satisfied enough to flee from the crime scene and hope they did better when he left. “Ok you love birds, I've had my sufficient fill of entertainment for today, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get ready while you two eat your faces off or whatever.”

“We’re not lovebirds!”

+

Louis checked his hair in his closet mirror once, doing a quick once-over of his usually expensive outfit. A lose graphic Saint Laurent t-shirt complimented his usual dark skinny jeans. He felt satisfied enough and grabbed his car keys and wallet. Louis stepped out of his room cautiously, waiting for either Zayn or Liam to come bounding down the hallway with a fiery pitchfork or a crowd of angry people ready to murder him.  
  
When he didn’t see or even hear anyone in the house, he walked out and down the stairs to his car.  
  
Outside, he was about to get into his car when he noticed Zayn’s car was gone and tried not to laugh. They’d gone out together, as in Liam and Zayn. Louis could be many things, but he was damn proud of his matchmaking skills.  
  
Liam and Zayn had pined over each other since the day Louis had the pleasure of introducing them when Zayn and Louis had become really close. Liam had been curious to know if the so-called Zayn guy was Louis’ new boyfriend; which Louis regularly lacked from. Louis had reassured Liam that no, as much as he loved Zayn he could never really see he him as anything but family.  
  
Louis deemed Zayn worthy enough to incorporate him into the LiamandLouis bubble, only after a few months of knowing him. He’d decided that Liam should meet his new friend and so Louis arranged for both parties to meet. He invited them to his favorite and unusual, shady, Chinese restaurant - which he frequented whenever he felt too lazy to drive far away for food.  
  
Liam had been terrified when he’d arrived. A strange, elderly woman, who always stood at the entrance and stared at all the newcomers, had taken a certain liking to Liam and followed him all the way to Louis’ table. Louis had almost fallen off his chair, laughing as Liam remained sulky and embarrassed; Louis kept having giggling fits a while after. After he’d sobered enough, he’d explained to Liam that Zayn was running a bit late. A late submission for some essays had left Zayn miscalculating when he’d be done with his class.  
  
Liam had been wary of Louis’ new friend. He dreaded that maybe Louis had misjudged Zayn, and he’d turn out to be a major asshole. Louis had never shown him any pictures, and he hadn’t explicitly described how or what Zayn really was like.  
  
Louis was well aware that Liam took a very defensive role whenever he met new people. Liam subconsciously acted almost like a father to Louis - and as weird as it was - Louis never complained, knowing that protecting Louis in some way, made him sleep easier at night.  
  
Louis still holds back a laugh every time he remembers the first time Liam saw Zayn.  
  
Because they’d never seen what the other looked like, Liam had been oblivious the moment he’d turned to Louis and whispered, beet-red, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so hot in my life.”

“Liam, are you talking about the guy by the entrance?”  
  
“Yeah… why?”

Louis had burst out laughing again, calling Zayn’s attention from the entrance of the restaurant. He’d spotted him sitting with who he’d supposed was Liam and mentally whined at Louis’ lack of warning. Liam was incredibly cute and handsome at the same time.  
  
Louis had the smuggest look throughout that dinner, where Liam stuttered some questions and Zayn replied dreamily, failing miserably to hide his endearment. Louis always felt his chest swell with pride whenever he remembered.

  
He finally shook himself from his reverie and turned the engine on. Louis’ phone then ringed with an incoming text. Louis took a moment before checking his rearview mirrors and then picked it up. Unknown number.

Harry.  
  
Louis felt a thousand butterflies erupt in his stomach and willed himself to calm down, not wanting to be more of an embarrassment to himself than he already was.  


‘Hiiii Louis, it’s H. x’ 

‘As in Harry Styles by the way! Sorry I assumed you would know…’

  
Louis felt something warm and sweet settle at the pit of his stomach. Harry somehow kept being himself even through text messages.  
  
He swallowed thickly as he remembered he needed to respond.  
  
He could say that the time it took to reply to Harry’s message was easily a few minutes, but in reality, he spent the whole way to the studio pondering every single scenario and text he could send.  
  
Reluctantly parking his car, Louis decided it had been long enough. He took his phone out and unlocked it, typing without second-guessing any longer.  
  
‘Hey H, of course I know it’s you haha :) Coming around today to continue the songs? x’

The kiss took all of Louis’ willpower to send, overthinking it so much his head began to hurt. It only took a few minutes for Harry to reply, in which Louis greeted Sarah and headed to his office once more, as he anxiously waited to see what Harry had texted.

‘Sounds great xx, be there around 2 if that’s okay?’ 

Louis wanted to cry with how precious Harry could get. It was remarkably noticeable that he wasn’t overthinking the kisses at all, sending two in a row without much care.  
  
‘Perfect, see you then x’

And in a burst of courage, he threw the kiss once more, finally locking his phone and putting it away like it was on fire.  
  
He breathed out tiredly. If only texting Harry felt so challenging, how could he ever even talk to him?

Pondering once more, his office phone snapped him back and answered quickly, knowing it was Sarah.  
  
“Mr. Tomlinson, the chairmen are here. Should I send them up to the conference room?” She asked professionally since the suits were standing only a few feet away from hearing distance.

Louis wanted to snort at the formality but knew he had to sober up to meet with the dead-faced men.  
  
“Yes please, tell them I’ll be right with them Sarah, thank you,” He said then and briefly hung up to prep for the long meeting ahead. Great.

+  


Two hours into the meeting with the suits, Louis could confidently say that he was hairs away from bursting into tears of boredom.

He’d whipped out his phone half an hour ago, and he’d already tired himself from playing all the mini-games he kept stashed for situations like this.  
  
It was time to complain.  
  
_‘Li, help me please :((((((((( I am so bored I might start bawling in front of the suits.’_

Louis knew how much it bothered Liam when he called their management ‘the suits’ and that was probably also the only reason he still did. 

_ ‘that’s what you get for being a dick this morning, serves you right.’ _

Louis bit his lip to swallow back a chuckle. He shook his head and typed.

_‘just call me so I can fake an emergency or something, I am done talking numbers and idiot artists for the day.’_

He knew fully well that Liam would indeed call him, so he didn’t wait for a reply. He just placed the phone on the table - sound on - until it rang. True to his words, the cell rang a minute later. Loud and clear, cutting in the middle of a speech that one of the suits was so intently giving. 

Louis jumped in fake-surprise and apologetically excused himself.  
  
“Yes, Liam? I am in the middle of an important meeting, can it wait?” He asked all professional, flustered and confused. Damn, he deserved an Oscar.  
  
“ _You’re an asshole; I still question why I do these things for you._ ”

“Right now? An emergency?” Louis asked all surprised and wide-eyed, ignoring Liam’s words completely. The suits were all staring at him expectantly.  
  
“ _…I guess I just don't love myself enough since I let you treat me like shit half the time._ ”

“I am on my way, don’t worry,” Louis said seriously, taking everything in him not to burst out laughing at the miserable tone Liam had.  
  
“ _I hate you, please choke on your fancy bottles of water, goodbye._ ”  
  
Louis nodded once, brows scrunched as he hung up the phone. He needed to have a serious talk with Liam about teamwork.  


“Well lads, you heard him. Critical emergency awaits me, as always a pleasure Sirs. See you soon,” Louis announced to the flustered men, saluting he grabbed his phone and dashed for the glass door. He swung it easily and all but ran towards the elevator and to his own office floor for some much-deserved peace and quiet. 

His beloved floor arrived the overhead speaker dinged in announcement. Stepping off, he looked around the vast floor with high ceiling and wide windows all around. The office had two rooms, one was his studio, where all the artists came to song write or wrap-up albums, and his glass office with a tidy desk and pictures of his family and the boys everywhere.  
  
What did take him by surprise though, was the man sitting in his office chair, all smug and relaxed as he snooped around all the photographs in his desk.

Louis would say he gave a manly yell and ran into punch the guy senseless, but indeed, he screeched and almost jumped back into the elevator while screaming bloody murder.  
  
Of course, it was Harry in his office, and of course, he’d scare the fuck out of Louis again.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Harry! You scared the living shit out of me,” Louis yelled from outside his office where he was clutching his chest, trying to avoid his weak heart from finally giving up on him.  
  
Harry was scrunched up tight in his chair, laughing loudly and freely, honking laugh reverberating through the walls.  
  
“I-” Harry tried, but burst into a fit of giggles again, his body shaking with the motion.  
  
Louis was endeared, but hell if he would show it. “I swear to God, you just keep sneaking up on me, fuck!” Louis exclaimed. He walked into his office and threw the nearest object he saw, which so happened to be a light paperweight.

It missed Harry by a fat chance which only made Harry laugh even harder.  
  
Louis tried to keep up the act but watching Harry laugh made him let out his own chuckles.  
  
“I’m sorry Lou, I thought you knew I was here,” Harry said once he’d sobered enough to speak, little giggles still leaving him.  
  
Louis scoffed, “I am going to have an earnest talk with Sarah. She never tells me anything around here,” He said though he knew very well he would never actually say anything to Sarah; he was too fond of her too.  


Harry nodded trying to look as serious but failed miserably, his silky patterned shirt and tight pants telling a whole other story about him.  
  
“Well we said two, but I was too bored at home and decided to get a head start while you finished your meeting. So here I am,” Harry said, motioning both hands over his body. Louis could’ve cried.  
  
“Fine, let’s go into the studio and see what good you do today,” Louis suggested, all the play fight leaving him in a rush.  
  
“Let’s,” Harry said, all but prancing to the next room. Sweet God, indeed.  
  


+

  
Two long and excruciating hours had passed, and Louis was ready to tear his eyelashes off if he didn’t get some fresh air soon.  
  
They’d been sitting in the studio non-stop and had managed to finish their last song - and start a new one altogether. If Louis had any, non-biased saying, he would think the songs sounded like incredibly massive hits already, and that was only counting with Harry’s half-assed vocals and no professional instruments recorded whatsoever.

“I believe we need a break,” Came Harry’s soft voice from behind Louis, where he was sitting all cuddled up in a blanket Louis gave him when he’d started to shiver his teeth off. Louis’ heart had broken more - if that was humanly possible - and he’d all but ran like a headless chicken around the floor, searching for that one white, and fluffy blanket he kept hidden whenever he’d be too lazy to drive home and take a nap. 

“Please, I have already contemplated a thousand ways to torture myself for staying so long inside this damned office,” Louis said, misery heavy in his tone as he dramatically slumped against his chair.  
  
“Drama queen,” Harry said shyly, his face half hidden under the white blanket and only his eyes were peeking from underneath it. Louis was now a hundred percent sure if he were given the right situation, he’d probably cuddle and hug Harry to death. No doubt.

“Excuse you, I need fresh air, and I have lost all sanity. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some pizza from the shop down the street and maybe even that forgotten ice cream you promised to take me to yesterday, remember?” Louis asked, sass and hip jutting out as he placed a hand on it for effect, knowing how ridiculous he looked.  
  
Harry chuckled and began to disentangle his body from the mass of a blanket he’d dumped on himself, his limbs slowly reappearing. Harry kind of resembled a newborn baby deer as he stumbled out of the sofa, lanky figure and messy hair all over the place.  
  
“When that blanket’s done giving birth to you, meet me in the- NO pun intended, agh fuck. Jesus Harry!” Louis said exasperatedly as Harry started wiggling his eyebrows violently and shimmying his shoulders towards Louis.  
  
‘Meet Me in the Hallway’ was the song they’d just been working on not five minutes before they’d decided to take a break.  
  
Louis saw the joke coming from a mile away, so he all but ran to the elevator doors, pressing frantically on the button as if willing to make it come up faster.  
  
“Louis?” Harry’s voice said, smile bright and far closer than Louis expected.  
  
Louis squeezed his eyes shut and sent a prayer to the heavens, ‘please sweet Lord make him shut up.' “What?”  
  
“Knock knock,” He said already giggling. Louis considered the stairs to his left, but three flights of stairs were not worth it.  
  
“Who’s there?” Louis said defeated.  
  
“Adore.”

“Adore who?” Louis said, hand covering his face as he waited.  
  
“Adore is between us, open it up!” Harry said, way too delighted for a grown man.  
  
Louis groaned in response, face scrunched up in a grimace.  
  
“Oh H, how could you?” Louis said, sounding as disappointed as he felt.

Harry kept giggling, “I’m sorry, it was too good to pass up.”

+

 

Arriving at the pizza place they both sat down and waited for their food to arrive. Louis was just about to ask Harry how he found those awful jokes when Zayn came in, all cool and handsome as always.  
  
Louis smiled delightedly then, “Zayn!” He called, hand waving him over. Louis had still not gotten used to seeing Zayn around his own house, much less out and about in London.  
  
Zayn turned at the mention of his name and his eyes suddenly lit up as well when they spotted Louis. Harry turned too to see who Louis was addressing.  
  
“Lou, I was just about to visit you,” Zayn explained voice warm and mellow, his face relaxed and calm as always. “I remembered how much you loved this place, so I was about to get you a pizza.”  
  
“Always the charmer, Z. Oh! This is Harry Styles, H this is Zayn Malik, my not-blood but still, brother,” Louis introduced happily, finally introducing one of his favorite people in the world to his potential new favorite person in the world.  
  
Harry smiled wide and big, his eyes lighting up as if they’d known each other forever, “Pleasure to meet you,” He said shyly as he shook his hand.  
  
“Same to you. A new artist with Triple I’m guessing?” Zayn asked all macho and gruff, taking a seat opposite to Harry and next to Louis.  
  
Harry nodded, stray strands of hair falling messily over his forehead.  
  
Before Louis could think it over, he’d already reached across the table and had gently placed the strands back over his ears. It was time for the earth to swallow him whole.  
  
There was a beat of silence. Harry turned beet red and thanked Louis, before standing up all too suddenly to get their orders.  
  
“Wow,” Zayn said, actually sounding surprised as he watched a flustered Harry go. Louis startled and looked at him questioningly.  
  
“‘Wow’ what?” Louis asked although he suspected where this was going.  
  
“That kid is a, clumsy and b, dangerously your type,” Zayn said without missing a beat, looking all wise and mature and sure as hell of what he was implying like there was no room for any doubt.  
  
If Louis had been drinking anything, he would’ve definitely spit it out and then proceeded to drink some more and spit it out again.  
  
“What?! I haven't even said anything! You’ve said two words to the guy,” Louis hissed as he punched Zayn’s arm, heart beating faster than necessary.

“Hey now, you don't need to flirt with him to make it more obvious. You're absolutely smitten with him,” Zayn said. He didn’t even say it trying to convince Louis but like it was as obvious as grass being green or skies being blue.  
  
“You’re insane. We met yesterday Z, don't get too excited. And no more mentioning of that ever again, you’re fantasizing way too hard there,” Louis said breathlessly, his chest suddenly pressuring down on his ribs with anxiety.  
  
A hard pinching began in his chest and Louis tried hard to suppress the grimace, pressing a finger to his breastbone and willing his racing heart to level back to an acceptable rhythm.  
  
Zayn took notice instantly and clasped a hand to his arm, worried. “Hey, hey calm down. Was just teasing you, Lou, it’s ok. I’ve got you, take it easy,” Zayn whispered softly in Louis’ ear, helping him relax enough to stop the incessant pinching.  
  
Louis took a deep and long breath just like his doctors had always taught him whenever he’d get too excited or scared. He remembers having to do this all the time when he was younger, video games and movies setting his heart beating far too fast for him to keep up.  
  
Louis nodded once in acknowledgment and pressed his back to the headrest behind him, relaxing his muscles one by one.  
  
Zayn kept an attentive eye on him but tried hard not to cause a scene, knowing full well how much Louis hated the attention.  
  
By the time Harry came back with their tray of food, Louis was stable enough to tease Harry about his choice of toppings. Louis chose to ignore the sigh of relief that Zayn let out beside him.

+

Once they’dfinished eating, Zayn excused himself. “Where are you going?” Louis asked confused at Zayn’s sudden hurry.  
  
“King’s Cross. Lotts is coming by to see you and didn’t want to bother you. She asked me to pick her up. Don’t tell her I told you,” Zayn pleaded once as he grabbed his coat. He pressed a kiss to Louis’ head and shook Harry’s hand earnestly before running out of the shop, leaving behind a very perplexed Louis.  
  
“My own sister,” Louis said, with no actual heat behind it, but as much dramatic effect as possible. Harry snorted and lowered his head to the table in amusement.  
  
“So Zayn and Lottie are… _close_?” Harry guessed cautiously, his face questioning as he prompted Louis to correct him.  


Louis shrugged, “If by close you mean like siblings then, yes Sir. Lottie is my younger-oldest sister, and they all basically grew up with Zayn around the house all the time. They’re just as trusting with him as with me, actually,” Louis explained, playing with the paper wrapping of the straw distractedly.  
  
Harry hummed in understanding and tipped his head to the side, “And by ‘they’ how many siblings are we talking about?”

“Six, love,” Louis said, the endearment falling easily from him.  
  
Harry seemed caught off guard by the pet name but even more so by a number of siblings Louis had. “Six? As in six people other than yourself?” Harry asked incredulously, his brows furrowed in surprise.  
  
Louis chuckled at his reaction but nodded surely, “Pretty positive yeah. All younger than me,” Louis informed proudly, always having loved being the eldest. He felt his chest warm with the thought of his girls and little Ernie and decided to visit them on the weekend to catch up. “They’re the absolute best. Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, Doris and to top them all off, Ernie,” Louis said like a punch line. He’s always adored his sisters, but he’d been ecstatic when he’d heard it would be a girl and a boy in his mum’s last pregnancy. “We now know the odds of the Tomlinson’s creating boys. One in seven chances,” Louis said amused and charmed.  
  
“Wow. It must have been hard, though? Growing up with lots of girls I mean? I grew up with my mum and sister Gemma, and I can say they were a handful. Though, to be fair, I was an even bigger handful. I snuck out a lot. Sometimes I would even persuade Gemma to take me to parties,” Harry says fondly, eyes glazing with memories.  
  
Louis felt the same warmth from before stretch across his belly button, his chest filling up with fervency as well. He cleared his throat quietly to distract himself from his own emotions, giving Harry a faint smile and nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I mean… there was never much quiet in me own house. Once the first girl passed her baby ‘screaming phase’ another one of the girls would start hers. I always felt like they were never going to grow up. I felt torn, sort of, half of me wanted them to stay wee little babies forever, but my angsty-teenage-self wanted them to grow up quick so I could stop changing diapers,” Louis said with a chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement.  
  
Harry’s features stretched in delight as he chuckled too, their gazes never wavering from the other.

They both got into a comfortable silence, digging into their pizzas while admiring the beautiful view of the Thames River, sunlight catching in the tiny ripples.  
**  
** Louis took the quiet time they had, to ponder about Harry. He thought about how he had a way of talking, walking, and acting that was incredibly charming and enchanting. He was polite and a total gentleman. He would say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ quite often, and would always hold doors open for anyone before going inside himself, anywhere he went. There was something incredibly handsome about his manners and sense of humor that had Louis slowly gravitating towards him. He knew how to charm the people he met, and how to use his character for his benefit. He was smart, smarter than he let on. He was agile, and Louis was slowly starting to understand how he’d gotten where he was. Major record deal and a growing fanbase that seemed to get more enchanted by Harry Styles every day. Harry had a rich sense of fashion, a witty personality and a terrible sense of humor. All those factors seemed to add up elegantly to make Harry so incredibly magnetizing.  


+

“I have to find a band,” Harry said suddenly once they’d finished their food. He’d quietly closed his pizza box and then started collecting all the trash they’d made on the table. He’d stood up and threw it in the garbage can nearest to their table before placing the tray on top and sitting back down in front of Louis.  
  
“Next time you see your mum, please tell her to send a complete guide on ‘How to create a human with incredible manners and terrible jokes’ please,” Louis said very seriously as Harry blinked owlishly at him, then faintly nodded before shrugging whatever confusion he’d had.  
  
“Uhh... I’ll make sure to see if she has one of those, somewhere,” Harry assured as he finished the last drops of his diet coke.  
  
Louis bowed, pleased that Harry understood his humor. “And you do need a band by the way,” He added in as if they’d never gotten off track.

Harry looked up and scrunched his nose at Louis, “But how do I even start?”  
  
“I can help you out with that. Just got to let your manager know first,” Louis assured, knowing exactly the people for the job.  
  
+

Later that night, as Louis was getting ready for bed, his phone pinged with a text lighting up the screen. 

_ ‘had fun today, tomorrow I get pick the place :))) x’ _

Louis bit into his smile before it could get any bigger and typed.  
  
_‘glad you did, please no places with strange leaves and fruits, thank you x’  
  
_ _ ‘no promises, sleep tight Lou, g’night xxxx’ _

Louis could probably faint with the amount of kisses he managed to see on the screen.

_ ‘goodnight Harold xx’ _

Locking his phone, Louis laid down on his bed. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was a tiny, quiet voice in the back of his head, whispering how close he was to falling for Harry Styles.  
  



	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I went to Harry's concert in NYC, and that was a whole adventure. Hope you enjoy the new chapter! x

** 4 **

Zayn awoke with a start. Looking around, he willed his mind to settle and remember where he was. Right, Louis’ house. Louis had been kind enough to let him use one of the guest rooms while his new apartment’s papers processed and all his furniture arrived. Zayn always adored the Doncaster lad, and he was grateful that Louis would let him stay for long periods of time whenever he needed to.  
  
Stretching his loose limbs, he pulled himself from the comfortable pillows, sitting up and reaching blindly for his cell, where he’d left it the night before, charging on the nightstand. He quickly unlocked and scrolled through his texts. Two from Louis requesting Zayn make him brekkie and one from… Liam!

**Just left to go to the office, excited for tonight! x**

Zayn bit his lip hard, fingers clutching his phone tightly as he abstained from squealing like a school-girl. Liam had always fascinated and enchanted him, in ways he could never understand. He had the warmest and most gentle personality, with the sweetest laugh and the kindest eyes Zayn had ever seen. Whenever he spoke to Liam, he somehow went the extra mile to show him he was intently listening and responding to anything Zayn said, as if his words somehow contained classified top-secrets, precious and essential. He always made him feel everything he’d once thought would remain numb forever. Not even Louis or his sisters could awaken certain emotions when his parents passed. He never stopped loving them, but there had come a time when he’d suddenly felt detached from any passion or urgency.  
  
Liam made him feel again somehow.  
  
Zayn will never forget the day Liam came by Louis’ apartment to express his condolences. It had been a few weeks after his parent’s funeral, when Louis had gone out, briefly, to get his laptop, which he’d left behind at his studio.  
  
He’d been sitting on the leather couches in the living room, with bloodshot eyes and baggy clothes when he’d heard the unexpected knock at the door.  
  
Zayn had hesitated at first, wondering if the mail was just being delivered to Louis’ door now. He’d remained still as he’d waited for a second knock. It came a few seconds later,  
  
“Lou? Can I come in?” Liam had asked quietly, his voice sounding hesitant as his shoes shuffled by the welcome mat.  
  
Zayn remembers how the sudden fervor had overcome his senses. He’d been so numb for the past month, even his body had reacted to the sudden feeling in his chest. He’d let out a loud gasp as he’d snapped his head towards the door; contemplating whether or not to answer it and let Liam in. He was a mess. He’d cried enough that day; his eyes were swollen almost completely shut. Liam couldn’t see him like that.  
  
“Zayn?” Liam’s gentle voice had asked through the closed door, interrupting Zayn's inner debate.  
  
Zayn had almost jumped out of his skin when he’d heard his name, for a second thinking Liam had seen him sitting in the living room. He’d shook his head to himself as he stood up slowly, trying to convince himself to just ignore the sweet boy on the other side of the door. He’d shook his head as he’d approached the entrance and as he’d tentatively stretched his hand to the doorknob. He’d tightly squeezed his eyes shut as he’d turned it, understanding there could be no way out once he opened the door.  
  
“Z-Zayn,” Liam had stuttered, surprised and pained his suspicions had been proven right. Louis’ car was nowhere in the parking lot, which meant he had been by himself until then. Liam had to gather all his willpower not to crush the handsome boy in front of him with a hug just yet.  
  
“Hi,” Zayn had whispered, voice raspy from his late-night screams. He’d just stood there, feeling tiny and vulnerable as he’d avoided Liam’s fiery gaze, shoulders slumped and lips set in a constant line.

“I- I was just. I wanted to see you,” Liam had admitted just as quiet as the grieving man in front of him.   
  
Zayn looked exhausted and small. His eyes had deep purple bags underneath, and his hair was a disheveled and greasy mess. His hands shook the tiniest bit, his body screaming in sorrow so quietly only Liam could notice. Zayn felt self-conscious for a moment then, admiring Liam's handsome frame. Expensive cologne and army-green v-neck shirt adorned his chest, dark jeans fitting perfectly on his muscly legs.  
  
But then time had suddenly slowed as Zayn had looked up at Liam, broken, seconds away from erupting into hacking sobs once more.  
  
Liam had somehow sensed his energy, understanding what Zayn felt and suddenly pulling him fiercely by the shoulders, into his arms. Liam had maneuvered them both inside, shutting the door quickly and sitting with Zayn on the couch. He'd had taken Zayn’s face in his hands and gently rubbed the tip of his fingers through his cheeks, coaxing the boy to feel and let go for a little while.  
  
Zayn had almost instantly scrunched his face tightly as the first sob escaped his chest once more. He’d instinctively began to curl his body as it kept contracting with his cries. But, before he could scrunch into a tiny ball, Liam had placed all his limbs in the way, forcing Zayn to wrap himself around him instead and let him cry there for a while. Liam whispered sweet nothings and gentle praises in Zayn’s ear as he kept sobbing into his shoulder, snot, and tears mixing in Liam’s flannel.  
  
Liam hadn’t cared, he’d been worrying sick for Zayn since he’d first seen him at the funeral. Louis had advised Liam to keep away for a while as their friend grieved and mourned at his own pace. He’d run out of patience and had hoped Louis would still let him see Zayn when he arrived.  
  
Zayn still considers that, one of the most important days of his dark past. It quickly became a changing point for his and Liam’s relationship. Seeing Zayn so vulnerable had let Liam know a lot about the Bradford lad. They’d gotten to know each other, bit by bit since then. They’d text and chat, and once in a while, they’d go out and have catch-up lunches whenever Zayn was in town.  
  
Liam had been over the moon when Zayn had announced he’d be moving back to London permanently. It meant a lot of things. Zayn would be minutes away, Louis would sleep easier knowing he had his best friend back and closer, and Liam could finally find the courage to ask Zayn on a date.  
  
He’d struggled to find the right way to go about inviting Zayn for dinner. He'd paced for weeks to no avail, staring at his phone longingly, hoping the Bradford lad would guess his intentions and invite him instead.  
  
Liam had gotten to know him, but not entirely. He didn’t know exactly where he would’ve liked to be taken on a first date. Liam could’ve asked Louis, but the little shit would’ve given him enough hell - so he crossed off that alternative.  
  
Even though it was very unlike Liam to wing important events, he’d concluded that if Zayn ended up hating the venue, they’d go anywhere he’d like. Hopefully, that was enough.  
  
Zayn could say he had been more than ecstatic when Liam had taken him out that morning for some breakfast and coffee before courteously asking him to go on an official first date with him.  
  
He’d tried to act all cool and breezy, but he was sure it’d come out more giddily than he would’ve liked.

Zayn was coldly brought back to reality when Louis had demanded, loudly, for him to fix up some breakfast, still laid lazily on his bed as he ordered Zayn to burn his pancakes just a bit. He’d only smiled fondly, “You’re one spoilt brat Tomlinson!”

 

+  
  


A few days later - with Harry’s helpful aid - Louis had finally managed to recruit a group of musicians who could create beautiful music in unison and seemed harmless enough to get along with.  
  
Louis had been on the brink of madness when he’d been unable to find a guitarist until Harry had suggested one of his friend’s roommate that could apparently ‘turn a chill session into a one-man concert — seriously Lou you have to give him a chance.’  
  
So Louis had agreed, and then he’d been left pleasantly surprised by Mitch Rowland at the end of their interview.

Two days after they’d assembled the whole band, Louis placed them all in their vast, soundproofed, high-ceiling music room. They’d located their respective instruments; after some discussion of lyrics and melodies, Louis felt ready to test them; giving each of them some earphones to listen to Harry’s vocals as they played the song.  
  
They would start with [Meet Me In The Hallway](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvZMygu99uE) — the first song he and Harry had worked on less than a week ago.  
  
As Mitch led the band with some opening chords, eyes shut in concentration, Clare (Keys) was quick to grasp the vibe and feel the song had, joining Mitch a few beats later. She played some psychedelic notes to accompany Mitch. Adam (Bass) was right behind as he observed Mitch, dancing and following along chords the two others musicians played, but, still straying a bit to give the bass its own private spotlight. Sarah (Drums) had a set look on Clare as she slid her fingers on the keys, and as the song progressed, she nodded to the others in understanding, aware the song was set with the keys and the added bass. The lyrics were soft and calm in the verses, but got a bit rough through the chorus, the bass compensating the missing drums and adhering to the fact that it was meant to be a mellow and delicate tune.  
  
Louis nodded along to the instrumentals from the other side of the glass, speakers playing every instrument as they all connected and graced each other, Harry’s vocals neat and raspy as they perfectly linked with the band’s music. The backing vocals they'd added a few hours before, linking wonderfully with the rest of the music.   
  
Louis' concentrated frown and set eyes wavered for a second from where he looked on at the band, chancing a glance in Harry’s direction, where he sat suspiciously still to his right.  
  
Harry looked ready to burst into tears.  
  
His face was covered almost entirely by his one hand, fingers pressing hard on his cheeks where he seemed to be grounding himself to the present, twinkling tears laying dangerously on the surface of his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbing furiously, seemingly holding back a cry.  
  
Louis would've been amused - making fun of Harry's sensible spirit maybe, and then poking fun later too -had it not been for the overwhelming surge of warm fondness that settled in his chest, pressuring his heart, certainly in the best of ways.  His lips were unwillingly pulled into a small smile, private enough that only he would know, was there. He blinked slowly for a second, capturing the memory in his mind, there for safe-keeping. In case he ever wondered or forgot all about Harry Styles' essence, he would always have a bit of it, committed to his heart.  
  
It also wasn't fair that Harry's exotic fashion sense did nothing to lower the interest that was slowly beginning to grow in Louis. One day he'd arrive with tight skinny jeans a [patterned shirt](https://ibb.co/hoo5GG) from some high-end brand. Today, he wore a loose - almost see-through - [white shirt](https://ibb.co/dtb33w), with a ruffled collar that looked like it had been stolen from the set of a medieval film. But that, somehow, still looked perfect on Harry.   
  
Louis had an internal millisecond battle with himself then. He considered all the options he had to try and comfort the younger lad. On the one hand, he could do nothing and ignore Harry’s emotional reaction, giving him space to soak in all that he’d accomplished to be where he was. But, something tiny and profound within his brain insisted in touching and comforting - almost like instinct.  
  
In the end, he temptingly stretched a hand towards Harry, cautious not to startle him as he placed soft fingers on his silk-covered shoulder. He gently squeezed in a comforting sense as he rested his fingers on his neck, feeling  _right_ where they laid.  
  
Like a jolt, Harry’s response to his touch was almost immediate.  
  
He pulled the hand that covered his face and placed it on top of Louis’ hand - never seeming to second-guess himself when his fingers squeezed and caressed back -unperturbed, acknowledging Louis’ comforting touch while still listening intently to the band, eagerness vibrating energetically under his skin.  
  
Louis felt a gasp leave him at Harry’s sudden affectionate gesture, suddenly thankful he’d invested in the gigantic set of speakers to drown out any sound either of them made.  
  
Harry turned his impossibly-green, bloodshot eyes towards Louis’ surprised ones - after a while of listening to the song on repeat - giving him a gentle but thankful smile that somehow spoke paragraphs of gratitude.  
  
Louis dumbly nodded once as he too turned his attention to the band that was finishing the last verse of the song for the second time.  
  
As the last chords stretched out, Louis stood up - fingers warily leaving the crook of Harry's neck - and gave them an exaggerated bow; head dipped low, arms stretched in a praising manner. They’d brought the song to life, giving it the last finishing touches that no simple guitar could ever do.  
  
Harry was no better as he clapped loudly - curiously resembling a happy seal. He placed two fingers in his mouth and loudly whistled at them, oblivious to the fact that the band could not hear him scream or clap. Louis felt the alarming pang of tenderness pressure down once again but firmly ignored it.  
  
The band gave them both shy smiles and chuckles, Mitch and Adam curtsying as they placed their instruments back into their respective stands.  
  
Louis congratulated them on incredible teamwork and applauded Sarah in deducing that the drums could abstain.  
  
After a few more hours recording the song - in which Harry pranced around screaming his very own lyrics and somehow even got Mitch to laugh loudly at his jokes - Louis sent everyone on their way.  
  
Harry had gotten to know and chat with all of them, grinning and making terrible jokes and praising them on any little touches they’d added to his song. They’d all seemed enchanted with Harry. His magnetizing nature, making it impossible to dislike him. Harry had fallen head over heels for the whole band in return. He’d raged on about how incredible and warm they were to him. Louis could say he’d been surprised at Harry’s selection of words.

“What do you mean ‘nice to you’? Why wouldn’t they be?” He asked incredulous, weary of Harry’s response.  
  
“It’s just that… since I was signed to the label, people have been a bit rough and aggressive I guess. They don’t want to hear my ideas — I also think they felt I had to be endlessly at their mercy because of the contract. Bossing me around with my music and image, passing me off as another pretty face which made it big because of my looks,” Harry mumbled quietly, almost as if he was scared of talking too loud in case someone heard, even though it was just the two of them in Louis’ office.  
  
Louis saw white, hands suddenly fisting, knuckles tight and temper soaring into slow anger. 

"Since when has this been going on?" He asked disturbed. Louis knew the moves of the labels and music businesses - had studied them thoroughly, so he was never played dirty or robbed from all those other greedy bastards. He recognized a puppeteering management team from miles away, and Harry’s words did nothing to assure him otherwise.  
  
Louis suddenly felt a hot ball of  _protectiveness_ suddenly clogging his lungs, desperate to understand how they could take Harry’s innocence and use it against him. That they could rest easy knowing they were taking advantage of a trusting boy that had devotedly placed his biggest dreams into their hands.   
  
“Well… since the beginning I guess. They never really bring me along to important meetings,” Harry continued, “And they mostly just announce what they want me to say or do a few minutes before the big events or interviews. They trained me to avoid personal questions and taught me to lie whenever interviewers got too close to sexuality-based questions. Said it was so I could attract more fans. Is that not true?” Harry asked confused, eyes curious and so, so honest.

Louis swallowed in disgust the foul ball of hatred down to his stomach. _Sexuality-based questions._  
  
“I don’t think so no,” Louis tried, voice wavering with distress. “Look, from my own experience in the field, it’s not right- what they’re doing. It’s vile and cruel, and you should never feel like you’re being controlled or held back, not even if you’re a breakout artist, you are allowed freedom of speech and opinion. No job should ever get in the way of your own beliefs and interests,” Louis explained softly, hands placed firmly on Harry's shoulders, ensuring that the point got across.  
  
Harry listened. “I understand that it might not sound right because you want to make it big, but you’re not their slave, they don’t own you, H.”  
  
The room fell into heavy silence as Harry stayed quiet for a while, his eyes cast down to the floor, hands absentmindedly playing with his shiny rings. Louis held his breath in anticipation, stilling himself and letting go of any frustration before it overwhelmed his tired heart.   
  
Harry seemed tense and hurt; his eyes gray in the poor lighting and his hands paler in the cold studio. His eyes flitted through Louis’ electric blue ones, and then he nodded solemnly. “Guess it all kind of makes sense...”

And _no_ , Harry would not treat himself like shit, not with Louis around. He was tired of seeing the same depreciation on Zayn and even Liam whenever he had bad 'heart days' and they called them. He somehow blamed himself and Louis still couldn't compute why.

“No Harry, you don’t deserve that. You are a great singer and a charismatic artist. You have fans who adore you. It’s not fair that they oppress you, just because you trust them,” Louis fervently explained, his voice gaining pitch as he tried to make Harry see reason. He wasn’t unworthy, and he shouldn’t have to hide who he loved just for the sake of selling some records. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make sense.  
  
“I understand your point, b-but maybe they’re right about the sexuality part. I’m not sure what I even _am_ yet. I like girls and boys, but I don’t really consider their genders if I start liking them, it feels natural to just love rather than question,” Harry explained flustered, a tiny frown set between in his brows. God, Louis wished he could just kiss it away, or smooth it gently with his fingers-  
  
_Ok_ , he had to take a second of silence to chastise his brain. Caress? Kiss?? Something was definitely growing in him, and he did not welcome it a bit. But, he decided to set it aside for now as he stared at the lovely boy, with the kind heart, sitting defeated in front of him. He looked lost, so different from a few minutes ago when he'd celebrated his first original song. Louis wanted nothing more than to help him find his way.  
  
Just like Liam had been there when he’d been young and terrified that his classmates would suddenly notice he liked boys.  
  
“There are tons of people who never label their sexuality. Don’t feel pressured to do it either, love. It could make you feel better if you just stopped looking for a name to give it. When I found out I was gay I was horrifically confused and lonely," Harry looked up then, surprised at Louis' sudden confession but didn't say anything else. "I didn’t understand why I liked who I liked and why I felt the way I did. Mind you; I found out when I was ten and had a big, fat crush on this one boy in me class…” Harry giggled quietly, hiding his face in his hands to compose himself. Louis smiled“…I was shocked but also relieved once I understood. As long as you love, it doesn’t matter who. Everything turns out okay in the end,” Louis felt the nostalgia unexpectedly overwhelm him for a beat as he clearly recalled his mother’s words from when he was younger. He missed her an eternity for moments like this.

Harry chuckled, and his shoulders loosened with the rumble in his chest, the tension dissolving as the usual bright spark returned to his eyes slowly. His hands found Louis’ in the midst of it all.  
  
Louis could’ve said he was surprised - but that would’ve been an understatement, indeed. He was fucking astonished by this boy’s level of comfort and openness. He would just do about anything that seemingly popped into his head the second it did; Louis couldn’t say he was complaining.  
  
“Thank you for sharing that Lou, it means a lot,” Harry whispered, graceful and honored, his lips merely giving a chaste kiss to Louis’ knuckles, his own ringed fingers holding Louis’ hand like a precious artifact - much like a prince brought straight from a fairytale.  
  
Louis was metaphorically dead on the floor.

Louis swallowed once and nodded, eyes wide and unmoving. “Y-yeah, sure, anytime H, anytime,” He replied, trying to score his voice to casually chill and completely okay. Because he was. Totally chill and completely okay, that is.  
  
“Yeah so… let’s move on to the last verse of‘we don’t talk about it’ and see how it can close there,” Harry breezed after a second passed, his lyric book open and once again scribbling different lyrics for the last verse of Meet Me In The Hallway. 

Louis understood then that he could’ve yelled, ‘Stop being so damn adorable, attractive, and polite and start behaving like a narcissistic asshole that sends dick pics without anyone asking for them while wearing those horrible polo shirts that make cute guys seem like bastards!’ But, of course, he refrained from doing so and decided to continue acting as if he hadn't been entirely brainwashed with the Styles charm. Nope, he was not, and it would never happen either. Nope, nope, nope.  
  


  
+  
  


A while after, they’ve tired themselves. Harry suggests they take a break and finish early. He wanted to spend the rest of the evening on a ‘nice walk down the side of the river, so we can finally breathe earthly air and connect with mother nature, ’ and Louis really had to wack Harry for that one, there was no other option, honestly.

So they leave the studio - Not without Sarah giving Louis the most conspicuous wink and thumbs up - and head down the road with the chilly breeze. London always managing to latch longer to the remainders of winter, bringing the brisk breezes from December until it can’t anymore.  
  
Harry and Louis huddle up together as they walk silently, their body heats combining to keep each other warm where their shoulders are pleasantly bumping every once in a while. Louis burrows his face in his furry jean jacket, pockets keeping his fingers tepid and comfortably warm as Harry does the same, shielding his rapidly flushed nose in the collar of his long black coat, that - Louis imagines - cost the same as the wondrous microphones in his studio.  
  
“I’ve always wondered if the myth of long hair keeping necks warmer is true,” Louis comments out of nowhere, eyes squinting with a grin, turning his face towards Harry as he keeps walking.  
  
Harry - suddenly startled from their peaceful quiet - looks up as Louis’ question, eyes large but marveling as he gives Louis a side smirk, his curls in-question bouncing with his step as the solid breeze hits them upfront.  
  
Louis fights the urge to reach out and place them back inside the collar of his coat.

“I mean, I don’t give it much thought. My mum and sister used to pester me to cut it after it got past my ears because for a while I looked kind of silly -  I must admit. I used to get annoyed because it started to like, take me longer to wash it and I’m not a big fan of lengthy showers whatsoever. But, after it grew a little more, I decided just to leave it be. It does keep me warm, I guess… just because there’s something extra like, apart from the coat, but I dunno, it’s just, there,” Harry explained, voice gravelly, rumbling deep from within his chest, his words slow and serene.  
  
Louis always thought about how long it took for Harry to get all of his thoughts out of his mouth. Whenever he spoke, he almost seemed to struggle to finish his sentences thoroughly, just because he took time with each word. Pronouncing every syllable. He also tended to get side-tracked and usually began to tell long stories that he somehow connected to whatever he was talking about. Somehow, Louis found it charmingly captivating. In the most platonic of ways, of course.  
  
“Wow, impressive reasoning Harold, very impressive,” Louis teased as he skipped a few steps ahead, realizing too late what a mistake it was. As Louis took the lead, Harry got cocky and - having the longest legs on a human - took three long steps, quickly stepping in front of Louis, who protested and huffed as he continued to bother Harry by stepping in his way and stepping on his shiny Gucci shoes. Harry took everything in stride as he kept chuckling at Louis and nagging him with his stupid, ugly legs. Just ghastly.  
  
After two stops - because Louis would continuously try to make Harry trip for the rest of the way - they finally reached the river, pleasantly empty on this side of the city.  
  
Louis made a show of fast-walking to the side of the river first and pretended like Harry wasn’t there with him. Harry just honked a laugh when he noticed - the bastard.

“You’re ridiculous Louis, being short isn’t bad. I love short people! I think you have _just_ the right size, really,” Harry exclaimed from not too far away. Louis only sniffed and held his chin high, staring at the last rays of sunshine glistening on the calm river.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, Louis finally peeped in, “I am not short by the way. You’re just horribly tall and lanky and whatnot,” He said quietly, still avoiding Harry’s amused eyes and close-lipped grin.  
  
“Sure Lou, sure.”  
  
Louis ignored the fact that his heart remained complacent and quiet during that whole day.

+

“Liam I have a dilemma, and you have to solve it.”

Silence.  
  
“Liam, I have a dilemma, and you have to solve it, answer me.”

Still silence.  
  
“LIAM PAYNE!” Louis yelled as he picked his head up from the arm of his couch, one leg kicking Liam hard on the side of the chest. Liam groaned in protest. It was the morning, after all, nobody liked physical harm too early on in the day.  
  
“ _Ow_ , fuck Louis,” Liam grumbled as he doubled on the couch, rubbing the side of his chest with one hand, the other still gripping his damned phone.  
  
The second Liam go distracted Louis took the chance and snatched the phone right from his fingers, quickly sliding off the couch and fast-walking to the kitchen. His fingers flew over the screen as he entered Liam’s ancient password he still kept from when they were in high school.  
  
“Hey! Louis! Give it back you wanker!” Liam yelled as he jumped off the couch and sprinted towards the kitchen, heading towards Louis who was hastily running to the laundry room, where he knew he could lock himself, away from Liam’s rage.  
  
Throwing the door closed, Louis was quick to turn the lock and sit against it, Liam pounding on it harshly from the other side. “I will burn your favorite fucking guitar Louis, give it back,” he threatened, but they both knew he was lying because Liam was incapable of destroying anything, being as soft as a marshmallow and all.  
  
Louis was fast to search the message app and skim quickly for any important names. It didn’t take a second to find Zayn’s name perfectly plastered all over the top of his recent messages, the blue dot next to his icon, signaling a new message.  
  
**can’t wait to see you again xx**

Louis took the time to gasp dramatically, eyes bulging out of his sockets, “Oh my god! Liam James Payne did you and Zayn go on a date!? What the fuck? Why have I not been notified of this? When did this start? Why? Where? How!?”  
  
“Louis, must you always be a bloody arsehole?” Liam asked calmly, probably pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment, oh, how it always made Louis laugh.  
  
“I don’t know, must you always lie and ignore me to be slobbering all over my other best friend?” Louis asked, too proud to have any other tone but of complete offense.

Liam sighed loudly, “That’s disgusting Louis, please never say ‘slobber’ in any context again,” He begged defeated as he seemed to walk away from the door and was- was he making himself a cup of tea?  
  
“Are you making yourself a cup of tea you traitorous swine?” Louis asked incredulously.  
  
“Yes, I am in fact. Every time you take my phone you always lock yourself and get everything you want, doubt this time will be any different. I’ll just wait for you with a hot cuppa and some freshly made sandwiches,” Liam explained easily, cutlery and other kitchen-like sounds ensuing as Louis remained in open-mouthed shock at Liam’s audacity.

Louis shrugged after a second and scrolled, reaching the texts from the night before (Louis dully noted he did quite some scrolling to reach said time).  
  
**Zayn: did you get home safe?  
**  
**Liam: Yes :) thank you for a lovely night, it was perfect x** (Louis dully noted the lack of grammatical errors)

**Zayn: thank YOU, the Pakistani food was amazing, it was very thoughtful of you xx**

**Liam: nothing to thank me for, but I was hoping we could do this again?  
  
Zayn: I would love to x**

**Liam: Louis and I were invited to this very fancy masquerade ball in honor of some big exec in the music industry, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? You can totally say no of course! I wouldn’t want you to go if you didn’t want to.** (Louis wanted to coo and hit Liam hard in the head for that one, he wasn’t even aware there was a ball he had to attend).

**Zayn: I would be honored to be your date to the ball Li :) x**

**Liam: Wow, ok, great! I’m glad. I will send you the details tomorrow then since it’s so late and all, sleep well Z xx**

**Zayn: sleep well Li x**

Louis took a moment as he locked the phone and stared wide-eyed at his washing machine, completely in awe. He stared so long he began to imagine the machine had actual angry-like eyes. Round mouth chastising him for being so nosy. Louis didn’t mind.  
  
Unlocking the door, he searched for Liam in the wide kitchen, spotting him at the far end corner by the dining table. He was reading what looked like a newspaper, as he sipped from his steaming cup of tea, a half-eaten sandwich on his plate. Louis rolled his eyes.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?" He demanded as he approached the table, fingers pointing accusingly. "I have fallen in love with you two now! You’re my new favorite ship-couple, thing. I have to name you, this is important Liam,” Louis exclaimed as he distractedly handed Liam his phone back where he sat, Liam schooling a deadpanned expression as he placed his phone back in his pocket and sipped from his cup.  
  
Liam took a second to finish the tea, then turned towards Louis with a solemn gaze. “Well, now that your dramatic fit is over and you’ve temporarily stopped yelling-’’ Louis raised an unimpressed eyebrow, hands on his hips. “-I guess, we were just scared, I think. We didn’t want to jinx it in case the date went horribly or if we discovered we weren’t really that into each other. I mean, we were placing our friendship on the line when I asked him out and-“

“Hold up, hold up! Did YOU ask him out? The great, shy and quiet Liam Payne asked Zayn Malik on a date? How? Liam wake up and tell me right now,” Louis demanded as his excitement only grew, taking a seat beside Liam on the dining table.  
  
It had been a long time since he’d seen Zayn try for a relationship, and, as Louis noticed now, Liam was fucking glowing with joy too. Louis will always deny it, but in that moment, he felt his chest swell with so much happiness and content for his brother. For Zayn, who’d lived and gone to hell and back, facing grief and pain bigger than most could handle, and who’d somehow gotten out of the darkest of places, back on his feet and being able to love again. Louis was beyond words proud; they’d made it.  
  
Liam gave him a tiny smile as his eyes suddenly lit up, leaving the newspaper forgotten on the side as he stared out the window in front of him, lips pulling into a half grin, hands absentmindedly rubbing in each other.

Louis sat and listened as Liam explained. He began by telling how they’d gone to a Pakistani restaurant Liam heard Safaa and Waliyha discussing about; how he’d been dying to visit after seeing the incredible reviews.  
  
Liam explained how Zayn had been floored to see the restaurant and how fancy and beautiful it was. It was right by the loveliest mountains, and the grass around it had been freshly cut, the smell complimenting the whole place. Liam had managed to get them exclusive tables outside on the balcony area of the restaurant, facing a calm river with the moon hung perfectly above it.  
  
The food had been fantastic, and for once, Liam and Zayn had gotten the chance to sit down and just chat about anything they pleased. They’d gotten to know things about each other that couldn’t be brought up in casual conversation. Liam told stories of his sisters and how they drove him mad when he was younger, and Zayn told his own stories of family vacations and long days in the English beaches.  
  
They’d enjoyed some wine and looked at the stars, both boys feeling as if they’d been pulled straight from a movie scene and placed under the milky way that night. They’d laughed at silly jokes and danced to tuneless songs from the overhead speakers, giggling with warm rosy cheeks and wet lips, fingers cold where they gripped their cutlery, soon warming as they held hands while eating the most wonderful of desserts.  
They’d smiled silently at each other after they’d run out of topics.  
  
After finishing their meals, they’d parked near a deserted road, lit up enough that it didn’t feel risky to stop for a while. They’d held each other as they’d slowed dance to a song on the radio, Zayn humming quietly in Liam’s ear as the clouds once again, opened up to show a full bright moon. They’d smiled into each other’s shoulders and had finally paused, weighing the moment in their hearts as they both had leaned in carefully, their eyes closing as they synchronized, lips meeting softly in the middle, no urgency or aggressiveness. Their mouths danced together while the song still played, the streetlights casting a faint glow over their bodies where they moved against one another in an affectionate embrace. When they’d parted, both of their foreheads had connected, faces only millimeters apart as they breathed each other in. Expensive colognes, wine-stained lips, and sweet strawberry cakes filled their senses in exquisite magnetizing attraction.  
  
Liam could’ve gone on for days describing how wonderful their kiss and everything in between had been, but for the sake of Louis’ level of tolerance and sanity, he’d decided to stop himself from getting carried away.  
  
“Now I feel so lonely and single. That was so wonderful I almost shed a very emotional tear. How will I abstain from melting into a puddle if I ever witness you two kiss? I think I should be weirded out, but, I’m just pleased and glad it was you two and not somebody else,” Louis admitted as he looked at Liam earnestly, his fingers playing with the tips of his hair, eyes flitting across Liam’s face.  
  
He seemed relieved at Louis’ reaction, his eyes lighting up even more if that was possible. “Oh! I’m so glad Lou, I was terrified you would feel awkward about us. I really think there can be something big with Zayn,” Liam admitted quietly, excitement clear in his voice, as he suddenly avoided Louis’ raised eyebrows and surprised eyes, opting instead to analyze one of the black tiles in the kitchen floor. Louis just stared, a small smile tugging at his lips.  
  
“I hope so Li, but don’t go too fast, yeah? Be careful and get to know each other better first, don’t rush into anything. You’ll regret it if something goes wrong,” Louis advised firmly where Liam brought his eyes back up to Louis, nodding quickly in agreement.  
  
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I really, really want it to work out, he’s amazing and funny and sweet, and he’s just… everything and more,” Liam breathed out, body languid and relaxed for the first time in a long time. Louis could only watch in amazement at how loose, and placid Liam looked. Now that he noticed, Liam was so much calmer. He had an undergoing vibrating aura around him, that glowed so brightly it was almost blinding. Louis couldn’t be more happy for his brother.  
  
“I hope it does Li; I’m rooting for you,” Louis said, “Now, what’s this important ball I still haven’t been informed about?”

+

Harry paced the wooden floor of his shared apartment. Boots echoing loudly with every step he took around the empty living room while waiting for his roommate.  
  
Niall was arriving back in London after almost two weeks of visiting his family in Ireland. Harry could admit he was nervous his best friend could tell about his little (massive) crush on his new album producer, but he was desperate to see him nonetheless.  
  
Harry had known Niall since they were fifteen - when he’d moved to London to attend high school in the city, with recently divorced parents, it meant he’d had to move, to live with his mother and older brother, Greg. That’s when he’d gotten to meet Harry. After watching one of his better performances with ‘White Eskimo’ at some boring party hosted by a total arse from school.  
  
Total Arse guy had promised free alcohol if Harry and his band performed a few songs to bring more people in. Harry and the band had agreed, knowing it would be the best thing they’d get paid for quite some time. White Eskimo had big plans to enter The X-factor together, but once two of the musicians left for college, the band was over before it could even begin. Harry had been heartbroken, knowing that his only chance of entering the music industry had left with his bandmates.

Meeting Niall was like a breath of fresh air. He was jolly and carefree, laughing at all of Harry’s stupid jokes and drinking to his eyeballs on weekdays. He had a liver of steel and the personality of the sun, lighting up rooms with his honking laugh and his baby blue eyes, that would usually water whenever he found something really funny. He had rough mannerisms and an alarming lack of filters, saying and yelling whatever he thought without hesitation - and Harry adored him.  
  
Niall had graduated high school with surprisingly good grades and then decided to dedicate his life to golf.  
  
Harry could say he’d been surprised when eighteen-year-old Niall had announced he would become a world-renowned golf player, enter the U.S. Open and would win so many cups a whole room would not fit them. Harry had chuckled then, and kept eating his Big Mac as they kept on chatting of potential jobs for Harry, not knowing then, how very precisely Niall had predicted his own future.  
  
Niall had become, indeed, a very, very famous golf player, much to Harry’s crazed amusement. Harry had laughed maniacally for hours when Niall had officially invited him to the U.S. Open three years after their little chat in the crummy McDonald’s. He’d probably cried on the phone while Niall laughed about Harry being an idiot for not believing him.  
  
They’d hugged when Niall firmly held the lovely platinum trophy in one hand and Harry’s jacket in the other, jumping and screaming in delight as the public around the course whistled and cheered for player ‘Horan.’

Niall had taken a few weeks of break to see his family after attending a wide set of tournaments, his win last year earning him incredible admiration and respect from professional veteran players, getting invited to the fanciest of golf clubs and sitting down with influential and wealthy men.  
  
Niall, had never lost his lighthearted essence though. Always cracking jokes and giggling, toasting with expensive champagne in their shared London apartment, singing cheesy Pop songs at three A.M. He’d never forgotten his priorities and he’d somehow learned to deal with stress in the most commendable of ways. Harry admired the way Niall handled himself, and how he always knew what to say to cheer up even the coldest of people. He was a true force to be reckoned with, and Harry was sure he would die before letting go of Niall Horan.  
  
“Harreh, open the facking door. I lost my key in the train station.” Well, Harry would consider it every once in a while. Niall was incredible things, but he was the worst roommate. Ever.  
  
“How many times have I told you to buy a bloody keychain so you can actually see it and not lose it,” Harry replied loudly, rolling his eyes fondly at his idiot Irish best friend.  
  
“Can’t be bothered,” He relied breezily, a crash outside the door sounding suspiciously like another trophy being thrown to the floor because ‘they’re too heavy, I’ve already carried them through the whole fucking airport’ and so on. Harry really needs to have a chat with Niall about trophies.

Opening the door reveals Niall in a loose expensive-looking graphic tee, gray sweatpants and his favorite black Vans, the look tied up by Niall’s hideous gray hat that he seems to wear for everything nowadays.  
  
Harry ignores it all then and throws his arms happily around Niall’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you, you dick,” He whispers in the crook of Niall’s neck, fingers pressing hard on the Irish lad’s back.  
  
“Missed you too my giant giraffe,” Niall replies, voice fond and amused as he claps Harry hard on the back, pressing his smile into Harry’s shoulder.  
  
They hug for a while before they let go and Harry analyzes the mess Niall left in the hallway outside their apartment.

Three shiny looking trophies lay askew on the floor, two of Niall’s duffel bags scattered by the doormat and his shoes left messily by the entrance, letting himself in as he heads straight for the fridge in their kitchen, a few feet away. He snoops around the cabinets, after unsuccessfully finding any prepared food in their fridge, and cheers in triumph when he finds an opened bag of chips, Niall himself, probably left there before he went to Ireland.  
  
Harry grimaces in disgust as Niall heartily eats them, leaving the kitchen behind as he steps into the living room, laying down on one of the couches and removing his socks without an ounce of worry for the smell in his feet.  
  
Harry sighs loudly as he drags in all of Niall’s stuff from the hallway, muttering about tidiness and all the ways he can get revenge for the messes he always has to clean up. Whenever Niall so much as moves in any direction inside their flat, something magically breaks or gets dirty.  
  
“I know your secret,” Niall announces simply, loudly biting a chip while crossing his ankles, giving Harry a smug smile from where he’s laying. Harry pauses then, looking up at Niall carefully.  
  
“What secret?” Harry asks warily, taking slow steps towards the love seat in the living room, opposite to the large couch Niall is currently on.  
  
Niall shrugs, “About the new songs you’ve written for the album,” He says as he checks his phone, eyes uncaring as he flits through some texts.  
  
Harry hesitates, confused. “How in the hell do you know about that? I never told you!” He exclaims disbelieving. All the different alternatives of how Niall got ahold of that information terrify him.  
  
“I hacked your email, of course, you’ve got the same shite password since four years ago, it was too easy,” He laughs, cheeks rosy as he wipes his fingers clean in his sweatpants. Harry’s eyes bulge like plates.  
  
“You WHAT?! Niall, why would you hack my bloody email?” He asks incredulous, brows frowning in confusion.  
  
Niall sits up, taking his sweet time throwing away the bag of chips (Miracle, since he would usually be caught dead before cleaning after himself). He sits back down, Harry still waiting for an answer.  
  
Niall burps once and smiles, “I got bored, and I didn’t want to text you because my phone was too far away, so I hacked your email to see what you were up to. Duh,” He finishes, arms crossing as he stares at Harry in delight, his expression only making Niall laugh.  
  
Harry mad a face and shook his head, “That’s terrible invasion of privacy, couldn’t you have texted me when you got your phone?”  
  
“Nah, too long for that. Plus, I was curious. If you think about it, it’s your fault for not texting me updates.”

“I will put your phone in a bloody glass of water,” Harry concluded, and Niall winked at him with a grin. Harry huffed and crossed his arms; but still felt relief seep into his senses when Niall didn’t ask about Louis, or, better yet, who he was songwriting with. When he felt ready, Harry would introduce them properly.  
  
For now, though, he decided to drop the fact that Niall hacked into his accounts whenever he got bored. He opted, instead, in suggesting a Welcome-back marathon of the Harry Potter movies, planning to watch them until Niall dropped dead with the exhaustion of traveling, and placing his hand in warm water before sleeping a blissful night while Niall peed himself. Sounded like the perfect welcome to him.

+

“Can you tell me now about the bloody ball Li?” Louis asked as he skimmed through the most boring channels in the TV guide, each worse than the last. His socked feet and pajama-clad legs all tucked under him as he rested his elbow on the armrest, holding his head up with one hand while the other held the remote. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Louis was planning on wearing the same pajamas until he fell back asleep again. 

  
“Yes just let me finish this… okay. There we go,” Liam muttered distracted by his phone, looking up after a second. He turned his back to Louis as he reached down for his laptop on the floor, where it was still charging. As it was booting up, he continued scribbling something in his songbook while tapping a foot against the carpet under the couch, humming some silly words to himself while his pen danced across the paper.  
  
Louis always admired Liam’s ability to keep a tidy book for songwriting, always having the patience to write down his ideas instead of easily typing them into a computer. Louis had tried keeping one himself but failed miserably after he kept losing every one of them after a while, and that wasn’t even counting all the times he wouldn’t write down ideas because he refused to look for a pen or pencil to do so. He’d stuck to his good ol’ laptop after he’d understood that pen and paper just wouldn’t work with him. He’d still mourned the fact that he couldn’t do it like the legends did, maybe someday looking back to all his Moleskines with fondness and remembering what each one had gone through and what they kept inside.  


Liam cleared his throat, the dim light of his laptop screen casting sharp contrasts to his frowning gaze. “So the ball is next week. We both were separately invited, which means we both get plus ones, so you can bring whoever you want. It’s specifically on Friday twenty-first, at ten - which technically means eleven, really - and it’s formal dress code, tuxedo to be precise, and… yeah,” Liam paused as he kept reading but still nodded surely. “Yeah, it’s for this executive guy that’s retiring, and their niece and nephew are hosting it. They’re supposedly this very all-out kind of people, they throw the best parties around London, and they know lots of celebrities who love to attend anything they organize. It’s already being called ‘the party of the century. Though to be fair, I’ve gone to parties that have been called that before, and they’ve been kind of shit and lame,” Liam reasoned, shrugging as he shut the lid of his laptop once more, placing it back on the floor to charge.

Louis nodded and hummed in acknowledgment. So it would be a crazy party/fancy masquerade ball, and he had to find a date. He briefly considered Harry, but just as it popped into his head, it jumped right back out, almost like the thought had burned his brain. He shook his head and chastised himself for thinking like a crushing thirteen-year-old.  
  
Liam gave him a knowing look, smug grin slipping onto his lips. “You’re thinking about the plus one, aren’t you? Well… if it makes you feel better - or worse, depending on your point of view - Harry’s already been invited; plus one and all. Consider taking Lottie maybe. She’s mad bored back in Donny. A night out in London would do her some good,” Liam suggested thoughtfully, bumping his knee with Louis’.

“Yeah, probably should take her. She deserves it, after all, she does for the two pairs of twins. Has practically help raise Doris and Ernie,” Louis paused, deep in thought for a minute. “Ok, I’ll give her a call later today. She’ll be happy I reckon. Having a night off from those little devils,” Louis mused as he stretched his legs off the couch, grabbing all their plates from the coffee table and into the kitchen sink, where they would lay for days until the pile got big enough to bother Louis into washing them.  
  
“Sure mate, she’ll be excited,” Liam added, standing up as well as he helped clean up the rest of the cups and crumbs around the living room. He placed them all in the sink and trash before turning to Louis. “I have to run to the studio. Sam has some last minute lyric changes he’s been meditating over. I think we’re finally choosing the official setlist for the album,” Liam said excited, eyes bright with enthusiasm as he hugged Louis in farewell, grabbing his car keys and shoes by the door.  
  
Louis smiled fondly, arms crossed where he stood by the frame of the kitchen door, socks warm on his cold feet. “Great mate, I’ll give you a call later to let you know what Lotts says,” He assured Liam, nodding once to his best friend before he disappeared through the door.  
  
So a masquerade ball with Harry Styles was quickly heading his way.

 

Louis was somehow, not ready at all. 

 

 

 

 


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, long time no see!! I'm so very sorry for taking so long. Life got in the way of any creative outlet and therefore I ended up with a terrible writer's block. This book is my baby, I've had the idea in my head and my computer for as long as I can remember. I hope you like this chapter, which turned out to be a lot longer than what I usually write. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**5**   


Louis paced a lot when he was stressed.  
  
His doctor constantly scolded him for working up his body for unimportant reasons, always giving him the same rehearsed speech: how stress depressed the immune system and how every time Louis felt like ‘ripping his hair out,’ he was only making matters worse for his _condition._ Louis understood that his doctor wanted only the best for his wellbeing, but in moments like this, he was usually prone to throwing caution to the wind.  
  
The week for the infamous masquerade had passed. Louis had procrastinated successfully until the day before the ball. He had no tailored tux, had completely forgotten to text Lottie over all the production of the new songs and sessions with Harry’s band (which Harry had devotedly begun calling C.H.A.S.M. - which was only everyone’s initials together) and the important event had easily slipped his mind. Had it, of course, not been, for tidy Liam to kindly remind him of _a day before_.

He’d almost screeched in realization when Liam had, off-handedly, asked him something about the masquerade, talking amiably on the phone as he greeted his lovely secretary and sipped his morning coffee calmly. Louis had flown off his office chair in a second, cutting Liam off mid-sentence and quickly scrolling through his contacts. Zayn’s name appeared after a moment and clicked his name faster than he’d ever done before. Probably.  
  
“Zayn! I need your help. This is a life or death situation mate,” Louis had yelled, voice panicked and pitchy, panting as he waited for Zayn to talk.  
  
Zayn, as he usually did, only sighed loudly on the other side, something that sounded suspiciously like a duvet catching in the phone speaker. “What did you do?” He’d asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“I need to find a tailor that will dress me for tomorrow’s _event_ ,” Louis had pointed out, eyes bulging even though Zayn couldn’t see him. Since Liam had invited Zayn as his date, Louis was sure Zayn would know which event he was referring to.  
  
Zayn hummed thoughtfully as he seemed to move away from the phone, unfazed by Louis’ crazed breakdown. After a long pause - in which Louis loudly tapped his shoe to the floor, even bringing the phone closer to his heel so his friend could hear - Zayn whispered, “Yeah I’ve got a nice tailor friend that can help. He’s ace. He’s doing my tux, and Li’s,” Louis considered giving Zayn shit, but the Bradford lad somehow remained unperturbed anytime Louis tried to annoy or pester him, almost as if he was immune to Louis. He also couldn’t risk annoying his only hope.

He loudly sighed in relief,throwing a victorious fist in the air for effect. “Yes! Thank you Z, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Sure, just don’t bother Li or me tomorrow. Thanks,” Zayn warned lowly, voice velvety and distracted. Louis sighed despairingly but nodded anyway.  
  
“Fine, I’ll try my best.”

“Sure Lou.”

Ignoring Zayn’s eternal state of aloofness, Louis hung up. He returned to his contacts and quickly dialed Lottie’s number. Legs still bouncing impatiently, he waited while it rang. He hoped Lottie could make it with such short notice and that it wouldn’t be too stressful for her to get to London by midnight. Sighing, Louis shook his head - he was a right dick for forgetting to tell her sooner.

“Hey, Lou,” Came Lottie’s voice, a screech from one of the twins resonated on the speaker, making Louis grimace at the loud noise. He sighed again.  
  
“Hi Lotts,” He paused, scrunching his face and squeezing his eyes shut, feeling like shit already. “Look, I feel like a right tosser for asking you this now but… can, uh, can you go to this fancy ball with me?” He asked carefully, knowing what came next.

“I would love to, sure. When would it be?” She asked distractedly as she kept shushing the twins - who were inharmoniously belting some kid’s song in the background. Louis groaned away from the speaker in despair.  
  
“It’s uh- It’s tomorrow?”  
  
“Louis!”

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask before now!”  
  
There was some more rustling on the other line, some more yelps and screeches before the slam of a door quieted everything down. Louis feared for a moment that his sister had hung up in sheer irritation, ready to scold him in half an hour for being so careless. But, he quickly checked his screen to see she was still on the line. Then, she returned with a groan, “Fine. It’s going to be bloody hard to reschedule some plans, but I can make it work. I’ll have to ask Tommy to stay with the girls and drop off the twins at school,” She organized, talking mostly to herself. Louis smiled softly, arms leaning on his desk as he fondly thanked his lucky stars for his sister.  
  
“Thank you, Lotts. I understand that I can be a right pain in the arse sometimes,” Louis comforted, suppressing his grin.  
  
“Try all the time,” Lottie grumbled, but her voice remained soft and leveled.  
  
Louis snorted loudly, “I get it Lot, I’m a pain, but you love me,” he teased lightly, grinning before they began discussing all the details for the next night. It was safe to say they’d both gotten off topic one too many times, laughing and gossiping without even noticing.

After a while they did arrange for a train ticket - since airports took the same amount of time in processing - and Louis agreed to pick her up this time. “Not Zayn, missy. This time _I_ will, because you’re my baby sister, not a _bother._ I love having you around here,” Louis assured with emphasis, reminding Lottie of a few weeks ago when she’d come to visit Louis and had asked Zayn to pick her up.  
  
Lottie tsked but agreed stubbornly, “Fine. I know how busy you are right now, though. Liam told me you have a new artist in the studio- which by the way, you have to tell me all about. What’s his or her name, where are they from, how good do you reckon they are, are they hot-’’ Lottie gasped, “-are you sleeping with them!?” Lottie asked outraged. Louis stilled as he raised an impressed eyebrow. She’d just had an entire conversation without Louis saying a peep. Impressive.  
  
Moving his cell to his other ear, Louis sat back in his chair and placed both feet up on the glass desk. It was a conversation long overdue with Lottie. Louis usually always ran to her whenever something remotely exciting happened to him, and weeks had already gone by since he’d met the curly long-haired dork. He smiled privately to himself.  
  
“His name’s Harry-” Louis began. Before he could even finish though, Lottie was already animatedly talking once more.  
  
“Oh my god! Styles!? That’s the singer that Fizzy told me about. Lou! He’s _all_ over social media. I’m talking thousands upon thousands of fans. He’s brilliant, and apparently he’s super lovely and handsome-’’ A loud protest came from Lottie’s end. “Oh! But he doesn’t shine a light on you, love!” Lottie mended quickly, having forgotten Tommy - her long-term boyfriend - who seemed to be only a few feet away. Louis laughed loudly, as Lottie continued, “Yeah and he’s like a wonderful singer and very charming too. I hear he’s going out with a model now,” Lottie paused, a sizzling growing on the speaker as she probably prepared breakfast. “The media is getting really interested in the guy,” She commented as she kept fading in and out of earshot, more kitchen-like sounds around her voice. “You should be careful Lou, don’t want to get caught up on all those nasty gossip sites,” Lottie warned, voice suddenly serious as the clanking stopped.  
  
Louis listened, but his attention had already been drawn. “What model?” He asked, and immediately felt the embarrassment consume him with how alarmed and curious he’d sounded. Idiot, idiot, idiot.  
  
Lottie hesitated as she approached the phone again, “Uh… I don’t remember correctly, but I’m pretty sure she did the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show last year,” Lottie said warily, having caught on to Louis’ sudden interest. “Why do you want to know?” She asked quietly, not demanding but still inquisitive.  
  
Louis pondered if it was the right time to explain the last few weeks, weighing all the pros and cons of having his sister badger him tomorrow for not telling her sooner.  
  
A beat of silence passed - one where Louis actually pondered, but his debate was abruptly stopped by the dinging elevator doors, (which conveniently faced his office) that suddenly slid open in a quiet flash.  
  
Inside the lift, the poor mood lightning did nothing to help Louis’ sight.  
  
Heart suddenly picking pace, he squinted at the tall silhouette that stepped off, long hair visibly recognizable.  
  
_Harry._  
  
Louis’ chest pinched painfully, as the pressure from his heart swelled against his ribs. He knew something was wrong the second he saw Harry. Where he would normally blare some idiotic phrase - “Honey, I’m home!” “Shut up, H.” - now there was an impending and terrifying silence. His usually bright energy nowhere to be seen.  
  
He felt the air leave him instantly. Fumbling with his phone, he dismissed Lottie with an array of messy words before letting her say anything, throwing the cell in his office chair as he rounded his desk, approaching his office door.  
  
Louis noticed instantly Harry’s whole aura, which seemed definitely off. His head was still bent, and his shoulders were slumped forward. He quickly walked towards Louis’ office with some sort of urgency, but his body communicated a defeated stance where he would typically just slouch a tiny bit.  
  
As the curly man reached his door, he swept a (ring-less) hand through his curls, pushing his hair back as he looked up.  
  
Louis let a stuttered “Oh, no _,_ ” leave him alarmed. He felt his heart suddenly sink into the pit of his stomach, uneasy emotions swishing against his ribcage. Harry was radiating hurt, and sadness and Louis absolutely hated it.  
  
Harry had bloodshot eyes, wet eyelashes, and a runny nose; his cheeks marked with tear tracks, his feet turned in. It was almost on instinct that Louis stepped forward too quickly, feeling desperate to comfort the heartbroken boy before him. There was a beat of silence between them before Louis softly opened his mouth, brows scrunched in worry.“What’s wrong? What happened Harry?” He asked desperate, his heart picking pace. He hoped all the pills he’d endured would hold up while he worried for the younger boy. He couldn’t handle having to deal with more than one problem at a time.  
  
Harry then looked up at Louis. His eyes were wide and glazed over with unshed tears, but - unlike last time - they weren’t bright or full of excitement. They were foggy and almost exhausted with words he hadn’t yet said. He looked miserable but also embarrassed, his face apologetic, once more glancing skittishly around the room as he tried unsuccessfully to avoid Louis’ burning sea-blue eyes, his mouth turned down into a frown. His hands were knotting and rubbing together in a manner that Louis recognized as nervousness and stress. Harry usually did it whenever he got too overwhelmed with a session, and his vocals weren’t instantly perfect, but Louis always insisted he needed time to warm up before getting anything right. Somehow, he always got Harry to listen, making him stop after a few minutes.  
  
Now, he just kept going until the flesh on his palms had begun to redden quickly, his nails white where they were fervently pressing against his skin, marking it with furious crescent moons. Louis only acted on instinct again when he immediately reached for his hands and grabbed them tightly between his smaller ones, pressing them to his chest, preventing Harry from abusing them any longer.  
  
Harry looked sheepish as he lowered his gaze down to the floor, feet rubbing the carpet underneath as he stumbled to get his explanation straight. “I-I’m sorry for barging in like this… _again.”_ He said quietly, voice sounding clogged with snot and crackly from his crying. _“_ It’s just that. I kind of- I just came back from a meeting. I thought about what you said. I wanted to tell them what I felt and what _I_ wanted for my public image,” He paused, gently removing one hand from Louis’ grasp at his chest and catching the edge of his flannel’s sleeve, wiping at his nose furiously but only leaving it redder.  
  
Louis waited patiently as Harry sighed sadly, but then he continued, “I wanted to feel like I had more options- choices. I told them I didn’t feel like defining my sexuality and that I wanted to be left alone for that,” Harry explained, looking down at the carpeted floor again, but Louis rubbed his thumbs on the surface of Harry’s hand and squeezed once in reassurance. “They listened, and I _really_ thought I had them. That they were understanding and attentive; that they had my back. When I finished, they just nodded and consulted for a few minutes,” Harry’s swollen red lips turned dangerously low, lips pouting like he was about to cry again.  
  
Louis began to shake his head, “H, it’s okay. You don’t have to say everything now-“

Harry shook his head too, “N-no, I- I'm fine. I want to tell you,” his eyes were sincere when he looked up then, nose wet with snot and wet cheeks still shinning dully underneath the shitty studio lighting. He bit his lip hard; eyebrows scrunched together as well. “T-they had the coldest eyes, Lou. They just looked at me, dead-on and told me to never ask for ‘that sort of thing again. There are more pressing manners to attend to as of now,’ and just dismissed me like I meant nothing. Like I wasn’t signed to their management. They want me to go to this… ball tonight with a girl I don’t even know very well,” Harry spit the word ‘ball’ with venom, his whole body suddenly lighting with rage. “This poor model I talked to once is getting dragged into all of this a-and I just feel so fucking shitty for her. She deserves someone who _really_ wants her for her. Not for some headlines and some 15-minute fame. The second we go in there together, every news outlet will assume we’re dating,” Harry’s voice broke in the last sentence, his usually velvety rich tone was dampened with a raspy, broken lump he seemed to have lodged in his throat. His eyes were still red and cast down to his shoes.  
  
Louis’ heart felt infinitely heavier,his knuckles whitening where they gripped Harry’s hands tightly. He gently let go and slowly placed both arms on Harry’s lower back, pulling him to his chest, one hand behind Harry’s head, rubbing easily at his curly nape. It was, in the same manner, he always practiced when Liam cried when they were younger. When his parents divorced, and Louis was there to hold him close until he felt better. When Zayn’s parents passed, and he squeezed and clutched his best friend desperately, hoping he wouldn’t just fade away into thin air.  
  
Now, he felt like he felt then. Powerless, and so, so desperate to make it all better. To make it all right and easy.  
  
His mum always used to tell him how he didn’t have a ‘sick’ heart, but ‘a heart so big that it just doesn’t fit this world, Lou, it feels like it needs to be set free. It wants its own planet and everything.’ As a kid, Louis used to howl with laughter, always thinking his mother was just saying silly things.  
  
But, as he holds Harry in his arms now, chest tight with the pain Harry feels, he almost believes his mother’s words. He thinks for Harry; his heart needs a new planet to live in. It’s such a dangerous and perilous thought. It’s been too little time to be thinking with such magnitude, to be thinking too widely. Louis pauses his thoughts as Harry sniffles beside him, bringing Louis from his own mind.  
  
Shushing him, he brings Harry to the plush couch in his office, both boys sitting impossibly close. Louis turned to look at Harry sincerely, softly tucking a stray curl that had fallen into his face and placing it back behind his ear. Harry’s black, wet eyelashes fluttered softly when Louis gently pulled his hand back. He reached both arms and tucked Harry’s head back into his shoulder again, fingers softly comforting him then, soothing Harry’s heartbroken eyes. “I want to make it better Harry,” Louis whispered into Harry’s hair, eyes closed and mind far away, tucked in a corner with his rational thinking.  
  
Harry has his face buried deep in Louis’ neck, nose bumping his Adam’s apple as he sought some reassurance from the smaller boy. Harry nodded once, “I-I understand that it’s not in your power, Lou,” Harry whimpers, and it _hurts._ He wants it to be in his power. He wants to fix it and make it better. Louis understands the weight of contracts and how they can ruin a person’s life under the power of cruel, manipulative humans. When Harry joined his management a contract was most definitely issued - where he agreed to _all_ terms and conditions said agents may have with him. If it’s written right, they can hold the power to make Harry say and do anything they please, since, legally, they own the brand they’re ‘helping’ Harry create. 

Louis had read all of the terrifying cases from young artists - much like Harry - who’d been maneuvered into the legal game of publicity and fame. Bribed by the illusion of their dreams and biggest wishes, these _kids_ eagerly hoped to be as cooperative and open-minded as they possibly could. Trusting their own lawyers to ensnare them in decades of contracts and oaths that they weren’t even aware of, which were right under their noses as they signed countless paperwork.  
  
The infinite list of contract exploitation chilled Louis every time. The teenage girl who’d had to lose weight in order to do public appearances - that later developed a grave case of anorexia. The fourteen-year-old singer who was sexualized because of erroneous behavior from her agents, giving the media the wrong message to deliver. Extreme cases; like the teenage boy who committed suicide after he’d signed a _ten_ year deal with a management that refused to let him come out in the late nineties. All real-life and very raw stories that never failed to terrify Louis to his core.  
  
Decisively, he gripped Harry’s wrinkled flannel with a white-knuckled grasp.”I will help you H. I’ll talk to Jeff, my friend Liam is good friends with him. Hey,” Louis said, both hands pulling Harry’s face from his neck and placing it level with his own. “We’ll fix this. I’ve studied these things with lawyers and dirty businesspeople. I know how to get you out, I can help,” Louis assured, voice solid and unwavering, eyes firmly looking at Harry’s pained ones.  
  
Harry’s whole body language changed as he suddenly sat back up, eyes wide and questioning. “Y-you can do that? I-I thought I had to wait for the contract t-to finish?”  
  
“There are ways,” Louis said with a set jaw, eyes far away. He felt a little grief filter his chest, mourning in silence for Harry.  
  
The younger boy was too naïve and innocent. Much like the three kids who’d once trusted the professionals to make their dreams come true. Harry was too faultless and inexperienced. But, Louis was decided to get Harry away from Modest! Management and into safer, more trusted hands. Ones he knew would never oblige him to anything he wasn’t willing to do.  
  
“I think for now it would be best if you didn’t worry yourself about the topic. Let Liam, and I handle it. If we need you, I’ll let you know,” Louis settled, the finality evident in his voice, forcing Harry not to press any further on the subject, shoulders slumping back once more as he looked up at the blue-eyed boy and nodded, dumbfounded.  
  
Louis removed his hands from where they’d held Harry’s cheeks, placing them back on his lap, his mind already building a scolding for letting himself go like that. He could justify his actions as soothing and reassuring touches, but inside his own head, he knew where his reaction had sparked from.  
  
Harry cleared his throat. “Thank you, once again, Louis. Y-you’re always there to help me. Makes me feel kind of… useless really,” Harry confessed, self-depreciatingly lowering his gaze back to the floor. “Wish I could do more to help.”

Louis shook his head vigorously, refusing to let Harry think he could ever be useless. “As long as you have peace of mind, you help tons. I am your album producer, after all, doesn’t hurt that I know enough about the business to help you,” Louis mockingly-bragged, making Harry crack a small smile, the first since he’d arrived. He gladly counted it as a victory.  
  
“Hey, at least Zayn, Liam and I are going to the ball. I could introduce you. We could share a dance too if the moment’s right,” Louis offered teasingly, easing Harry to let his current problems go for a while. He seemed to physically lighten up at that. Louis even attempted a half-assed wink, which ended up looking like a nervous twitch, causing Harry to howl loudly with laughter, doubling over as he mocked Louis’ terrible winking abilities. Louis tried hard to remain stern and unamused - but only two seconds of Harry’s ugly, snotty laugh had Louis giggling too, eyes crinkled in delight.  
  
Once they’d sobered enough, Harry earnestly pulled a half-smile at Louis. “I would… really like that and- really thank you, Louis. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this past few weeks. The band, the songs and the lyrics and- just everything is _perfect._ I couldn’t have asked for a better producer,” Harry stretched his broad arms and hugged Louis tightly to him, wide back engulfing Louis’ tinier frame completely. Harry’s long hair tickling Louis’ nose and his glasses tipping to the side, where his cheek was pressed against Harry’s jaw.   
  
Louis nodded in understanding but reluctantly pulled back. “You’re more than welcome to stay for a little longer if you want. I know it’s not our writing week, but I wouldn’t mind if you stayed for a little bit?” Louis asked hopefully, still trying for nonchalance as his body remained perched and relaxed against the backrest of the couch.

Harry smiled apologetically and sighed, “I wish I could, really. My best mate just came back, and I promised to treat him to a ‘welcome-back dinner’ before the ball tomorrow. He’s going as well. I’ll make sure to introduce you to him,” Harry said excitedly, clutching his hand to Louis’ and squeezing in gratefulness. Louis was fine.  
  
Clearing his throat, he nodded in understanding, “Y-yeah sure, I’ll uh. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Get all the beauty sleep you can and that,” Louis mumbled lamely, standing up as he followed Harry back to the elevator. Harry smiled with puffy eyes. Though most of his face was still swollen and worn, his eyes seemed much calmer and reassured, his posture just a little more open. Walking towards the elevator, he paused for a second, turning back as if to say something else before closing his mouth again. Pressing the downward arrow, Harry stayed put and looked back to Louis.  
  
There was a small, minuscule moment, where both boys just stood and stared in silence at each other as the lift rose from the first floor.  
  
Harry’s jade green eyes met Louis’ cerulean blue’s, neither blinking as they suddenly engaged in an undeclared, staring contest. Their postures relaxed, Louis’ arms crossed. He raised a challenging brow while Harry narrowed his eyes in response, a small smirk dancing playfully between their lips as the small screen above them quickly counted floor after floor. Harry remained still, mostly frowning as he focused on not closing his eyes.  
  
When Louis could feel his eyes watering, the doors swiftly slid open and rang in announcement. Startled, Louis and Harry jumped back and quickly blinked in relief.  
  
Both chuckled quietly. Harry stepped inside and saluted Louis weakly, smile more genuine as he pressed the lobby’s button. Louis felt a small pang of pride bloom in the center of chest, knowing _he’d_ assured Harry and somehow calmed him down. He saluted back before he began to walk backward into his office.  
  
It was just as Louis was far enough - front still facing Harry - when one of his enormous palms suddenly stopped the elevator doors from entirely closing and said, “By the way Lou, the glasses look- they look nice on you.”  
  
And then the doors were closed, and Harry was gone.  
  
Louis can’t recall how long he stood there in absolute shock and awe, mind screaming in the absence of Louis’ vocal chords. Did Harry- was he- did Harry Styles just… compliment his glasses? Did Harry fucking Styles compliment him? Purely? Did he really just mess up all of Louis’ inner, exceptionally maintained, peace? How dare he? What was happening? Was God getting him now? Was he dead? Why would Harry compliment him and disappear? Did he feel what Louis felt? Did he get all gooey and weird inside whenever he saw Louis? Or was Louis going insane?  
  
So many questions and his brain just wished something or somebody could have the answer.  
  
He was abruptly stopped from any further questioning; Lottie announcing she was arriving in half an hour via very loud, text message. Forget Harry Styles for now. He would leave all confusion and ponder for his usual restless night.

** + **

Liam could admit he’d been nervous a handful of times.  
  
Award shows, a final listen on produced albums, exposing his dear songs to other artists. The list could go on.  
  
For now, Liam was just nervous about the infamous ball that was quickly approaching the next night. Liam knew it was very unlike himself. He was usually very composed and proper. He knew how to charm anyone in the industry effectively. He was always the one who remembered the names and introduced everyone to anyone. He was slick and astute when it came to socializing in major events.  
  
But, this ball would be different. It had been a long time since Liam had cared for anyone as much as he did for Zayn. He was usually one to get hit on a few times a year, never much into the whole one-night-stand or giving careless kisses thing. Louis always accused him of being too much of a hopeless romantic and honestly, Liam could never really argue. He loved a good old-fashioned date, opening car doors and flowers for whoever he took out. He liked to show his softer side when the opportunity arose, eager to let his dates know he wasn’t just some air-headed burly man with a bit of charisma. When he loved, Liam knew he loved big. He fell too quickly and he moved too fast. He trusted at first sight and Louis was constantly trying to slow him down whenever he tried dating. In reality, there wasn’t much help for him. He didn’t think he could stop when he felt attached to someone, mainly because of how he felt about Zayn.  
  
Zayn and he had been texting non-stop since their date, both eager for a second one. Liam had arranged to pick Louis, Lottie and Zayn up at Louis’, riding in Liam’s car with his personal chauffeur, Daniel.  
  
He hoped Louis wouldn’t be too much a nuisance, though he doubted Louis would even mind bothering them, knowing Harry would be there as well. Liam had noticed the sudden intense interest Louis had picked on his new client, suddenly alarmingly infatuated with the boy. He could say he was sick of listening to his best friend attempt to talk nonchalantly about Harry Styles, but in all honesty, Liam was incredibly glad Louis fancied someone again. It had been a while since his best friend had shown much interest in general humans, let alone anyone in particular. Liam had begun fearing that Louis had developed a grave case of depression, but his sudden eagerness for the curly-lad proved he’d only been waiting for the right opportunity to come back to his older self.  
  
Liam only hoped Harry was right for his best friend, hating the mere thought of Louis having his heart broken, more so than it already was.  
  
He would always remain protective of Louis. Liam understood that -like him - he always loved and trusted too soon to be sure. He was much more of a giver than he gave himself credit for. Liam never got how Louis juggled with all of his problems throughout his childhood and teenage years. He’d dealt with various jobs, a rare heart disease that always seemed to give him trouble, and four younger sisters he had to help Jay raise while still in school. Liam never stopped stressing how proud and awed he was by his best friend. Though he’d give anything for Louis to stop ducking his head down and dismissing any compliments, Liam would never stop. Whenever he complained of his little problems, Louis, without saying anything, never failed to remind him that others had it worse. Louis had gotten himself so far from where he’d started, and he would always admire that in him.  
  
Now he just hoped that Louis’ new interest in Harry Styles, would be nothing but smooth sails and wonderful moments. Because he deserved it.

**+**  


At King’s Cross, Louis keeps to himself in a little cafe; which was cozily tucked in the corner of the busy station. He sips calmly at his tea and breathes in the placid smell of strong coffee all around him. As a kid, Louis had always wondered what coffee tasted like. In-between some other foods and drinks, coffee had always been prohibited. The caffeine sped the heart, causing rapid palpitations that could easily turn fatal for him in particular. He’d always been curious to try some though, but even decaffeinated coffee contained a small amount of caffeine in it, that he just couldn’t risk.  
  
A few minutes pass, and he finishes his last sips of tea, tummy pleasantly warm and full enough to wait patiently until his sister arrived in fifteen minutes. The time gave him space to sink deep into his mind, recalling the events of the afternoon.  
  
So, Harry had come to his office. He’d been crying, and Louis could say it’d been the first time he’d seen the lad sad-cry. For some odd reason, recalling it now caused for an odd pang of _something to_ bloom in the middle of his chest once more. It wasn’t quite pity and it wasn’t quite sorrow. It was the same feeling he’d gotten at the studio a few days before then when Harry had confessed the wrong-doings of his management team. Louis had seen white, and his chest had swelled with the fervent instinct to shield Harry from the horrible men who’d done anything remotely wrong to him. It was the pulsing beat under his veins that immediately tensed, jolting him to touch and comfort in some way. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of whatever he’s feeling were developing into.  
  
Harry always had an incredible presence wherever he went. People knew he was significant to the public, just from the way he held himself and all his mannerisms. He was almost always, kind and positive, handing easy smiles to anyone who crossed him and honking-ugly laughs to those who amused him (which, to be fair, wasn’t hard at all). He was honest, never plastic. He had an undergoing aura of esteem for anyone he spoke to. Whoever he addressed felt special somehow, Harry taking attentive time to listen and converse with them as long as he knew they had good intentions. Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew how to separate the fakes and phonies from the kind and genuine. Louis admired that about him.

  
  
He’d only known the boy for two weeks, but Louis was observant. He could see the way Harry worked, watching him chat with his bandmates for a few hours gave him insight into that.  
  
Seeing him cry, all unsure and scared in his office had been quite devastating. Harry could be bold, but also very sensitive, believing too much in people and trusting too easily. He reminded Louis of himself. Liam always stressed how naïve he could be at times, and that he just didn’t want to see him hurt.  
  
Louis was sure Liam was wary of Harry, knowing only his career story did nothing to reassure him that he was a good guy. He just hoped Liam could see the whole-heartedness that constructed Harry and that he treated him well at the ball tomorrow.  
  
Zayn was always more calm and laid-back, his voice a soft purr, unlike Liam’s significant baritone. He liked to dance in the shadows and whisper in Louis’ ear when crowds got too loud. He was never too much of any emotion, and that particular characteristic developed after his parent’s passing. He did like to show a strong front, however. He adored his leather and ‘intimidating’ tattoos, paired with his beloved motorcycle and terrible smoking habit. Louis always insisted that a bloody cigarette never did anything that the absence of one wouldn’t. People were just as likely to flirt with him (never mind the killer cheekbones, lovely hazel eyes, and long dark lashes) without smoke escaping horribly out of his mouth and nose. Louis stressed just how terrifying he found it when actors in movies did it, though he’d never seen Zayn do it live -Louis couldn’t really handle the smoke up close.  
A loud overhead speaker, echoed loudly through the high ceiling of the station, announcing that Lottie’s train was just about to arrive.  
  
Standing, Louis stretched his stiff joints and - after rummaging his pockets tirelessly- cursed himself for forgetting his night pills at home. The blood flow in his body had always been slow, his heart never beat as well as an average one, which regularly caused for his hands and feet to be the first to freeze and stiff up, even in warm rooms or in hot weather.  
  
Setting all nuisances aside, Louis headed for the arrival gates, eagerly searching for Lottie’s platinum hair, endless amounts of passengers filing out impatiently. He attempted to near the barricades so his sister could spot him to no avail.  
  
Finally, when he’d began to fish his phone and call Lottie for her whereabouts, she excitedly called from not too far away, “Lou!” She grinned and waved her unoccupied arm. Louis looked up and spotted her in a small crowd still waiting at the arrival gate with a small bag and coat hung over her other arm.  
  
Quickly snaking his way through some people, Louis grabbed Lottie immediately and buried her fondly in a suffocating hug. He’d always been smug about the fact that she never got taller than him, still feeding his ego and reminding him that he wasn’t _that_ short. He hummed in delight and kept squeezing his sister a little longer; her arms wrapped tightly around him as well.  
  
“I’ve missed you, Lewis,” She mumbled in his chest, voice muffled by his shirt. Louis nodded in agreement, “Me too, Charlotte.” He said while grinning delighted, voice just a little clogged with emotion as he breathed in her familiar scent.

**+**  
  


They walked, half-hugging towards the parking lot. Louis with his sister’s carry-on in one hand while the other wrapped tightly around her shoulder.  
  
Grabbing his keys, Louis proudly unlocked his beloved Audi, Lottie helping load the bags in the trunk. Once both were sitting inside Lottie immediately sat back, “You owe me an explanation for today,” She announced as she placed both feet on his dash. Louis paused and stared unamused, one brow raised in question.  
  
“Take your filthy shoes off my dash, and then we’ll talk,” Louis burst, expectantly waiting for her to remove them, eyes wide and eyebrows almost reaching his hairline then.  
  
Lottie rolled her round eyes once but removed them swiftly. Turning back to Louis, she waited for him to begin talking with expecting crossed arms and pedicured nails tapping easily against her elbow.  
  
Louis sighed in defeat and pulled out of the parking space, bracing himself for the narration.  
  
“I _am_ working with Harry Styles, if you must know-’’ Lottie squeaked once, “-but, before you begin squealing hear me out though,” Louis warned, Lottie visibly deflating beside him. She remained quiet. “Liam got a call that Harry’s label was looking into ‘versatile’ songwriters that could help out in making his album. I agreed since I hadn’t had clients in weeks,” Lottie hummed sarcastically but stopped when Louis narrowed his eyes. Then, he continued “I was about to start sending over some drafts of a few songs I recorded, but oh, surprise, Mr. Harry Styles himself was already waiting for me at my office,” Lottie gasps and covers her mouth to silence it. Louis stops at a red and turns to her, “We’ve been writing the album together. Helped him assemble a band to help out with the instrumentals. It’s been… nice,” Louis hesitated, wary of giving too much away.  
  
“We did some pretty ace songs, I must add,” Louis said after a while of silence, a small smile on his lips. He was proud of their work, was always eager to continue writing with Harry. He had a vision very different from any artist he’d ever worked with, something Louis found infinitely refreshing. Delightful even.  
  
There was a long pause where neither of the siblings spoke. Louis concentrated mostly on the road, and Lottie sat quietly beside him, gaze marveling out the car window. Louis wondered if she could tell. Sometimes, Lottie scared the bloody life out of him. She, somehow, always knew exactly what he was feeling or thinking. He wondered if she could tell he had grown dangerously endeared to the boy. That his heartbeat took a bold pace whenever Harry chanced him a smile or a soft giggle.  
  
After a minute or so had passed, she nodded. “Is he going to the ball tomorrow?” She asked simply, not demanding or mocking. Just inquisitive again.  
  
Louis observed Lottie’s profile but nodded and smiled, “He’s lovely. You two would get along perfectly. I guessed he would be a right prat or summat. What with all the money and fame he suddenly got. I’m more used to any recently famous artists to let up all the air to their head.”  
  
Louis had a handful of bad experiences dealing with spoiled kids. There were those who walked around like they owned the world and lacked any real spirit to their music. Louis despised them the most, always wasting any chance they had to get serious in the industry. Instead, they would spend any money they earned on a few cars and an overpriced mansion in a snobby neighborhood, thinking they would go far with their piss-poor attitude and a 2000’s fashion look.  
  
Although Louis had been gobsmacked at Harry’s rise to fame, he had believed right away, that Harry would be like all the others. Maybe a little sweet at first, total suck-up and way too eager to seem qualified for his status. He might have sent in two or three emails regarding Louis’ songs, criticizing like he’d been producing music all his life. And Louis would have been smug knowing he’d judged another book by its cover.  
  
But, unlike the others, Harry had taken time. He was keen in being involved in the process, wasn’t interested in being tossed a poppy cookie-cutter song that would stay in the charts for a few days - before it got lost between all the other bubblegum songs. He wanted depth, and he wanted potency; to leave a mark and tell a story.  
  
Louis was proud of Harry for that. It was hard to be genuine nowadays. With so many people who wanted their own spotlight in music, it was tough to stand out. Harry, being his dorky, clumsy self, got millions of boys and girls to fawn over him with a mere video. Which, reminded Louis he still had to check Harry’s videos and see what had finally charmed people _internationally_ to beg for an album.  
  
“I can hear you thinking.” And right, Lottie was still very much there, in the car, with him.  
  
“Sorry, went away in my thoughts,” Louis flushed and stepped on the gas. His eyes flickering between rearview mirrors, clearly avoiding his sister’s gaze.  
  
Lottie crossed her arms and narrowed her light green eyes at him burning the side of Louis’ head. “You totally like him,” She accused then, not a drop of doubt in her voice. She was used to getting things her way; she was a slick, fast-thinker, always knew how to solve problems before they'd even happened.  


Louis felt the blood rush quickly to his cheeks, neck warm and probably just as red as his face. He cleared his throat nervously. “Uh.. no, he’s just a friend. He’s charming sure; I’ll give you that. But, no. He’s just… Harry,” He squeaked tightly, eyes frowning at the dimly lit roads ahead. He would’ve never made it as a Drama major; he’s sure now.  
  
Lottie snorted after a beat, so loud, Louis swerved the car just a fraction with surprise. She shook her head disbelieving and then burst out laughing. “Y-you are fucking gone for him Lou, oh lord,” She kept on laughing while Louis just grimaced, stare still on the road and never moving. Why did he ever think he could fool his sister was beyond him.  
  
It kept going on for a while. She would randomly burst out laughing, and Louis would then glare heavily in response. Deep down though, he only felt nostalgia. Lottie’s laugh reminded him of easier times: his mum would be in the kitchen singing nursery rhymes and the twins would be shrieking around the living room with half-made ponytails and missing teeth. Lottie and Fizzy would be dramatically talking about cute boys in school while Louis looked on from the couch, wondering when the house had filled up so suddenly. He missed being sixteen and not really worrying about the future too much, just planning his day to day and hoping his chest remained painless.  
  
Finally parked in Louis’ garage, Lottie stretched her legs and went to Louis’ side of the car, amused eyes but sincere smile. Louis stepped out and leveled her with a suspicious look.  
  
“Look-“ She hesitated, balancing from one foot to the other, eyes still kind and comforting, “The girls and I… we love you, Lou, more than words can say.” She looked up at him calmly, her smile kind, like their mother’s. “We always want to see you happy. Smiling and laughing and being _young._ Because you are Lou, young. So young. We can’t wait for the day you bring that one special guy home. No matter who it is. Sure, I give you shit when you like someone, but just know I totally love it when you do. It reassures us you’re still here, not all trapped in your own head,” Lottie paused, an amused smile growing on her lips while Louis rolled his eyes. “That makes you sound like a psychopath, I’m sorry,” She chuckled to herself before she looked at Louis earnestly. “But in all seriousness, we don’t really care who you fancy as long as they make you happy,” Lottie said, crossing her arms around her tiny waist, her smile never fading.  
  
Louis took a second to step off his side of the car completely, eyes wondering between his sister and the floor. He sighed loudly after a minute, “You know I love you girls with my soul and heart. You shouldn’t be worrying about me at all,” Louis said troubled, frown set as he rubbed his forehead a few times. “That’s what mum was for Lots. She was the one who did that. You girls have to worry about boys and… makeup or cars, I-I don’t know what you kids like nowadays,” He said flustered as he looked on at the woman that was somehow _still_ his little sister, Lottie. She’d grown a steel backbone since their mother’s passing. Fizzy, Daisy and Phoebe had learnt to lean on her and trust her advice. She’d taken on filling their mother’s role and Louis’ heart broke a little, knowing the kind of pressure that a missing parent could place on one’s shoulders.  
  
“You’re so much like mum, darling,” Louis said suddenly, the words falling off his mouth before he could stop them. His voice sounded worn and sad, his throat just a little too tight with emotion and _pride_.  
  
He heard Lottie breathe in once, loud. Her eyes welling up as she looked at Louis, grateful but still with a tinge of sadness around the corners.  
  
Lottie let her body slam against Louis’ own chest, face pushed hard against his sweater as she tightly gripped him in a strong hug. Louis felt a gasp escape him, but he immediately hugged her back, rubbing her back soothingly as he rested his own head against the top of his sister’s hair, letting the environment around them soothe some of the thousands of feelings swirling in his chest.  
  
“Thank you, Lou, it means the world to hear you say that,” Lottie said with her face still buried securely on her brother’s chest, her voice wavering just a little.  
  
Louis nodded surely. “I’ve always thought so Lottie. You’re amazing with the girls. You take such good care of the twins. People in Donny have some massive respect for you. I have always been infinitely proud of you. Never doubt it.”

It was a while after they’d collected everything from the car, a new steaming cup of tea for Lottie sitting easily between her hands, both of them sitting side by side on the plus leather couch in Louis’ modern living room, fireplace crackling softly in the background.  
  
Louis looked up, breaking their silence. “Look Lots, if I do like Harry or not doesn’t really matter that much-” Louis said, but Lottie was quick to sit up, probably ready to lecture him about his worth and how he deserved all the good things. But Louis was faster, shaking his head quickly, “-He’s confused, he’s terrified of the place he’s been thrust into, and I don’t think he has many people around to help him. I’ve thought about it but I just- I think it would be best if I were a _friend_ to him, first and foremost. Whatever I feel can be forgotten later. I’m sure it’ll pass,” Louis said surely, though a little reluctantly, assuring himself as he nodded. He had tossed and turned for the last two nights, pondering every aspect of his position with Harry as of now. If Louis ever said anything, the whole process they had begun to understand would crumble. Harry would retract and squirrel away, confused and pressured by the added trouble that he clearly didn’t need. No, Harry was too overwhelmed and unprepared. Louis wasn’t going to be selfish enough to say how he felt - not when he knew the disastrous outcome that would ensue. 

Lottie was still very quiet, eyes far away as she stared blankly at the fireplace. Then she shrugged. “You… are the most stubborn, hard-headed lad I’ve ever met. I wish I could talk sense to you, Louis. You deserve- don’t give me that face, you do deserve happiness. I will say that until the day I die. But, for now, I’ll let you handle it. Just know, the girls and I have endless relationship and love advice ready for you whenever you need it. Just give us a call and we’ll be ready,” Lottie said, smile blooming as she tried to stay serious. Louis broke first, laughing loudly, head thrown back as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
  
“I take it all back. You’re still an annoying little shit.”

**+**

  
The next day arrived faster than Louis preferred. In no time his hair stylist, Rhea, was all over his house. She was yelling demands and clapping loudly at her assistants, who had the most terrified faces and cowered back whenever she walked by them. Louis would’ve been laughing by then, but the waves of nerves overcame him whenever he remembered why he was getting ready at all. Zayn was stationed a room away from his own, doing the final touches in his suit, but mostly just keeping Louis company. He was incredibly grateful for the Bradford lad, who clearly knew why Louis looked just a shade paler than usual.  
  
Rhea was minutes away from finishing his hair. They’d both decided to go with a messy quiff, front gelled enough to stay upright but leaving the sides just a little disheveled. Zayn had been the one to convince him after much begging and a long rant about well-groomed hair. Now there was hot air blowing in his eyeballs and he was ready to be done and sat in Liam’s car.  
  
He took a few minutes to ponder and generally pan out how he planned his night going. First, there would be alcohol he couldn’t drink, everywhere - his doctor had strictly prohibited it since they’d changed his meds - along with drunk people he would have little time to talk to before they entered the fifth stage of intoxication. He would most likely hang close to Lottie, Liam, and Zayn, where the latter would most probably snog themselves into another dimension, unaware of their best friend’s eyes burning and melting away into the floor. Then he’d proceed to sit forlornly at an empty table, watching the party take on full swing, bodies crashing messily with one another and masks already laying forgotten somewhere in the water-ring stained tables. He would proceed to finish his glass of water, before calling his midnight getaway, Daniel. It would be the typical get together he usually avoided.  
  
_But Harry would be there this time.  
  
_ Louis physically shook the quiet thought out of his head. His conscience had a way of getting to him lately, piping in in the worst of moments, when he least expected them. Sure, Harry would be there, but the curly lad was prone to have more exciting friends to dabble with than Louis. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be hurt if Harry found time to entertain all of his other mates before getting to him at some point in the night. Harry had enough on his plate dealing with his forced date and homophobic management; the least Louis could do was lay some space for the lad. He hated to admit though, that he was somewhat excited to the prospect of seeing Harry somewhere non-work related. Excited to see him under different colored lights with different sounds and people all around them. He was curious to see how Harry would take to meeting Zayn and Liam if they would politely shake hands and call it a night or if they actually found common ground to chat for longer than small talk required. He was terrified for Lottie. If Louis knew one thing about his sisters better than anyone else, was how protective they could get.  
  
Louis had stated he didn’t have anything going on with Harry, but no matter how pure and friendly he could be, Lottie would be analyzing and examining the poor boy any chance she got. Though Lottie would die for Louis to finally find himself a boyfriend, she would most likely study them long and hard before letting them off the hook. His family tended to guard Louis’ heart, both emotionally and physically - as cheesy as that would seem.

“Lou babe, you’re done,” Rhea said close to his ear now, sounding like it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. He snapped his eyes back up and looked at the finished product.  
  
His hair was quaffed up just like he’d asked and his suit complimented nicely with the fancy hair-do. Zayn’s stylist had found him a beautiful navy blue suit and had advised Louis to ditch a tie, opting instead for a crisp white shirt, buttoned to the collar, giving a touch of glamour with the laid-back attire. He seemed livelier, younger even, his bags covered with some concealer, looking bluer under the glaring fluorescent lights of Rhea’s mirror. He stared for a little bit longer before a loud gasp emanated from the doorway, Lottie sprinting to look at her brother in the mirror as well.

“I think this is the most handsome you’ll ever look.”  


Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes before nudging Lottie with his elbow, “Shut up and go to the car.”

**+**

By the time they arrived, the party had already reached it’s peak level. Liam liked to arrive fashionably late, explaining that everyone was perfectly tipsy, or drunk enough not to mind if they forgot a few names along the way while greeting everyone.  
  
The limo parked smoothly along the main entrance to the beautiful mansion - probably from some snobby family looking to get recognition for their wealth. A long set of stairs led to open doors at the top, where a booming beat resonated even into the closed car. The marble staircase was spectacularly decorated with fairy lights, shining in soft yellow hues on to the white, painting everything a welcoming tone.  
  
Stepping off, Zayn and Liam held hands as they began to walk up the stairs, Liam laughing as he said something in Zayn’s ear, making him chuckle quietly as he looked down at his shiny shoes. Lottie stepped off next, a wine-red gown fitted perfectly to her slim figure. Louis quickly climbed off, buttoning his jacket before linking arms with his sister, both following suit behind Liam and Zayn.

As they all reached the top, they were quickly approached by a beautiful woman in a golden gown, hands full of different colored masks.  
  
“Welcome lady and gentlemen. Tonight’s dress code includes masks to fit your outfits,” She curtsied, looking at them politely as she stretched an arm with four different masks. “I offer you each one to disguise your identity,” She said, showing them the masks all similar to their suits and gown’s colors. Liam was the first to politely take the first one, similar to his black suit; Zayn’s a dark grey. Louis grabbed his last, a beautiful navy-blue mask with swirls to the sides, ending just above the nose in the middle, wide enough in the center to show his eyes. Lottie helped him put it on, trying not to mess his hair before they all continued on down to the actual party.  
  
The bass was booming against the tall white walls surrounding the ballroom, two sets of stairs leading down to the dance floor and multi-millionaires scattered everywhere, talking, laughing and exchanging dirty secrets amongst themselves. To the side, a stage was set up, probably where the orchestra had been only an hour before they arrived. Lights were blinding everywhere as they shone upon the center of the room, where most people were already singing and dancing along to Bruno Mars, fancy glittering cups littered all over the wealthy’s hands.

Louis sighed softly as he walked down the set of stairs with Lottie at his side. She squeezed tightly to his arm once, knowing how uncomfortable he usually felt at 'significant' events like this.  
  
It was going to be a long night.

**+**

An hour after they’d been mingling around the party,Louis was already done for the night. They’d spent their time trying to recognize and guess who the men and women under the masks were, wearing Louis’ patience thin as each group of people approached them with unsure smiles, Liam’s eyes laser-focused as he tried to distinguish each set of eyes to no avail. After the eleventh set of people ‘casually’ walked towards them, Louis immediately turned on his step, bolting straight for the bar. 

With a defeated sigh, Louis flopped down on the clear barstool, fingers and throat itching for anything with alcohol. His conscience though was quick to scold him. His doctor had banned booze for specific reasons. Alcohol attacked the brain and immune system, tricking it to believe things, which for any other folk could be just fine, relaxing even - but for Louis, it could be fatal.  
  
He understood and had heard the same speech from his cardiologist a thousand times before. Which is why he leaned into the bar and ordered a cold glass of water, over the pumping bass around the hall.  
  
The music hadn’t changed it’s upbeat tempo, even more, bodies piled up on the center of the dance floor. Lottie had laughed at the fact that though it was supposed to be a fancy ball with violins playing the entire night, the ‘ball’ had more or less turned into a raving party. Louis had laughed too, loud and uncaring, causing a few of the snobbier men to snap their heads in his direction, eyes the only thing visible about their facial expression.  
  
A few minutes passed as the bartender finished a few other drinks before filling a tall glass of water, handing it to Louis with a polite nod. Thanking him, Louis sat, admiring the tall and detailed decorations all over the high ceilings of the mansion. Entranced by the beautiful and massive chandelier right above the dance floor, Louis missed the barstool next to him squeaking as someone sat themselves down. After a beat Louis lowered his gaze, meeting with a pair of radiant green eyes, glazed over as they grinned at Louis goofily. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he took in the ever-glowing Harry Styles, dressed in a breath-taking floral red [suit](https://i.imgur.com/87LATnA.jpg), hair cascading down his shoulders, a red, shimmery mask placed evenly around his eyes. He looked like he’d jumped straight off a runway, making Louis question if maybe he had, in fact, attended a fashion show before arriving at the party. The two men just stared at one another for a beat, smiling and eyes crinkling with mirth.  
  
“Fancy seeing you here,” Harry spoke first, words laced with alcohol, traveling through the air as they reached Louis. His stomach somersaulted for a second before he cleared his throat, attempting to remain collected and nonchalant.  
  
“See you’ve begun the partying without me,” Louis answered easily, sipping lightly from his glass of water. Harry’s eyes momentarily flickered to Louis’ lips where he’d been licking them before they quickly snapped to his glass of water; an eyebrow-raising as he looked back up to his eyes.  
  
“See you’re not partying at all tonight,” Harry responded words just on the verge of slurring as he blinked slowly, resembling a sleepy sloth. Louis smiled as he averted his gaze, cheeks flaming red as he directed his attention towards the dance floor.  
  
“Yeah well, partying’s never been my scene anyway, so…” Louis trailed off, a self-deprecating smile as he looked down to the shiny marble floor. Harry then moved closer in his barstool; eyes suddenly focused as he leaned an arm on the bar’s counter, analyzing Louis’ face, making the older lad turn his gaze back to the curly boy before him, eyes questioning as he tried to remain calm, chest beginning to tighten with pressure. Louis squirmed.  
  
Harry remained quiet as he kept staring at him. Louis was about to question him when he spoke again. “You seem sad,” Harry suddenly announced after a brief silence had passed, looking at Louis intently, who kept on squirming in discomfort, smile uneasy as he rolled his eyes, attempting to avert Harry’s surprising attention elsewhere.  
  
“And you’re weird when you’re almost-drunk so I don’t see how we should be judging,” Louis answered, but it didn’t take any laugh from Harry. He frowned slightly as he shook his head, curls bouncing lightly across his shoulders.  
  
“Would never judge you though,” Harry pointed out, eyes full of intent as he looked at Louis through half-lidded eyes. “Just pointing out that you seem… wistful,” He explained, eyes warm and still colorfully green. “Seems fair after I made you deal with my dramatic breakdowns,” He mumbled, a hand rubbing the back of his head, just a tinge of embarrassment shading his voice. “Thought I should be the one to worry about you, yes?” Harry asked, deep voice making Louis sigh internally.  
  
“Do you always talk like an 1800’s prince when you drink or just on special occasions?” Louis asked amused, noting the chivalrous tilt to his voice. Harry blushed and broke into a pleased grin, as he shook his head, ring-clad fingers slapping against his forehead, as he covered his face in embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said laughing, a chuckle escaping him as he drew mindless circles on his floral knee with jittery movements. Louis just shook his head in mild fondness as he looked away, staring at the dance floor. He stared distractedly at the shimmery gowns with matching masks, champagne glasses scattered all over people’s hands. A few minutes passed where Louis just sat and stared, Harry beside him, never moving, as he kept his eyes trained on Louis’ profile, while he pretended not to notice. 

A sweet and soft song suddenly started playing overhead, the crowd of people on the dance floor rearranging themselves to find a partner as some moved out of the way and new people walked back with their partners and dates. Louis stiffened for a second as he felt Harry move impossibly closer, his breathing suddenly louder as he approached Louis’ side, eyes still delicately set on him. Harry’s lips moved lightly through the air as he neared his ear, a soft breath and the tickle of curls near Louis’ cheek.  
  
“May I have this dance?” Harry asked softly, voice wavering just a bit as he placed a large hand on Louis’ shoulder, gentle and feather-like pressure to his skin.  
  
Louis’ breath hitched as he turned his head the slightest bit, cheek bumping with Harry’s nose as he trained sea blue eyes on Harry’s profile. Heart racing, a tingling emanated from his fingertips, where they took a delicate hold of Harry’s much bigger hand, his fingers engulfing Louis’ tinier ones.  
  
Harry stepped off his stool, hand helping Louis down from his own. As they began to approach the dance floor, Louis could feel the pinching in his chest increase, his heart struggling to keep up with Louis - but the warm hand against his, muted any pain he could’ve felt.

Harry turned and easily grabbed ahold of Louis’ slim waist, hand placed smoothly over Louis’ lower back, his hand resting on top of Harry’s shoulder, both of their other hands joined perfectly as they began to sway with the music.  
  
“Won’t you get in trouble?” Louis asked as they moved lightly, feet swaying as the soft yellow lights occasionally danced across Harry’s masked features. He smirked.  
  
“Most of my ‘bosses’ are drunk off their asses, and my date left me after the cameras took off,” Harry whispered privately, a bubble of pleasant warmness surrounding them. Almost like a universe was reserved just for the two of them, where no one could hear or see what they were up to. Louis smiled softly.

“Lovely,” Amused, Louis shook his head, eyes crinkling as he leaned closer to Harry’s taller figure.  
  
Harry easily welcomed his weight, so he took a step further and pressed an ear to Harry’s chest, right where his heart beat softly underneath the elegant red suit. For a moment, Louis let himself listen to a healthy, normal heartbeat of a young and handsome man. Let himself get lost with each synchronized thump, as they each came cleanly after the last. The beats sped quickly as Louis remained pressed against Harry’s chest, his fingers curling in Louis’ back, almost fisting the suit.  
  
This was the heart of a kind man, who felt deeply and cried with frequency, always honest and ready to listen. Louis thought of Harry’s eyes, how they warmed whenever he watched Louis cringe at one of his stupid jokes, or when his bandmates complimented his performance of their songs. How he laughed horribly loud and immediately covered his face in embarrassment.

He thought of drunk Harry, swaying lightly and leaving his inhibitions elsewhere as he boldly took Louis to the center of the dance floor, where some glanced in disgust, and others silently turned a blind eye. He thought of Harry’s naiveté, which he possessed so innocently. How easily he’d walked into a den of wolves without noticing.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, he kept listening to the humming thumps, one hand having traveled down from Harry’s shoulder to his chest. He felt placid as they swayed with the low saxophone rolling like satin through the high ceiling. Though Louis’ chest had begun pinching incessantly, it was worth the discomfort, when he got to feel Harry’s chest expand and contract with each breath, where he quietly let Louis rest his head, shirt having caught on to his expensive cologne and the faint smell of vodka.  
  
After the song ended, Louis sighed, pulling back calmly, before looking up at Harry’s lips, filled with raw emotion, staring at Louis with a question posed simply between his brows.  
  
Like clocks suddenly slowing down to days, time around their bubble froze. Louis’ blue met Harry’s green and it was just the two of them in an empty ballroom, no music or people or lights, just the two of them still posed to dance. Like a flicker, Louis sprung the balls of his feet from the floor, thrusting upwards as he quickly left a quick peck on Harry’s cheek, dangerously close to his lips.  
  
Standing back, Louis exhaled once in a hollow chuckle, heart beating erratically in his throat. He gave Harry a small nod, before leaving the dazed, wide-eyed man in the midst of the dance floor.


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there. So I've just finished editing, and I know I've taken a whole ass minute to post. I'm very sorry! I really don't want to rush it though because if I did, it wouldn't turn out to be the book I've drawn up in my head. I love this book as I've said many times before. Please savor every single word from this chapter because I can't guarantee I'll post the next one in a few weeks. 
> 
> That's the painful angst of WIP's, so I hope you can bear with me until I post the next chapter!! Love every single person that likes this book. Sending you all my love from one homo sapiens to the other.

**6**

 

The weekend after the ball had passed and Monday had inevitably rolled around. Louis woke up tired and cranky, dreading and fearing what Harry would have to say of the ‘kiss’ from the ball. He’d groaned, weary with fatigue, having tossed and turned all night without an ounce of sleep. As he headed to his kitchen, he smelled freshly done eggs and sizzling bacon, his stomach rumbling with anticipation.

“It’s like you want to hurt me on purpose Lottie,” Louis said in greeting, walking through the kitchen and plopping down on one of his swiveling chairs, right in front of his pristine marble counter. Placing his head on the crook of his arm, he groaned dramatically loud, so his sister could hear.

Lottie chuckled, leaving behind the frying pan she’d been holding in her hand, along with a silver spatula Louis didn’t even know he owned.

She quickly rounded the counter to peck his head, “Sorry Lou, I’ll turn it off in a second,” She said apologetic, hurriedly turning off the kitchen’s flame. She placed a lid on top of the pan before handing him two perfectly cooked eggs and toast on a plate.

“I made everything according to your diet _Boobear_ ,” Lottie teased as she served herself breakfast. Sitting beside him she nudged his shoulder playfully, digging into her food. Louis only smiled with puffy, sleep-ridden eyes, wishing he’d slept those two hours he’d spent going aimlessly going through his phone at eight A.M.

“Thanks for the brekkie,” Louis said groggily as he dove into his food, eyes half-closed as he savored the holy food he was allowed to eat. Almost two months ago, Louis had been prohibited even the simplest, healthiest and poshest of burgers. He couldn’t even think of fast-food or anything that included frying or processed chemicals, his doctor warning he couldn’t risk anything that could be easily avoided. It had been pure agony at first. He’d whined and grumbled non-stop whenever he so much as smelled the food at the shopping mall.

As a consolation, Liam had agreed to stop eating anything Louis had been forbidden. Zayn could’ve sworn to it as well if the boy didn’t already have the weirdest most greenest of diets. Liam lasted a week before Louis spotted him eating some bacon ravenously, thinking he’d been smart when he’d ‘sneaked off.’ The smell had spread so widely around Liam’s flat it had taken a second for Louis to figure out Liam’s long trip to the bathroom was just the knife he’d gone to get for Louis’ back. Maybe Louis was dramatic, but he really loved bacon and all the meats that existed.

He finished his breakfast quickly and downed the large pile of pills Lottie had left by the side of his glass of water. “Lovely cooking kid,” Louis complimented as he grimaced, pills heavy on his throat as he kept swallowing them down.

“Thanks, Lou. Learned from the best,” She commented quietly, giving Louis a knowing look while piling away their plates. He looked down in understanding.

“She was a great cook,” He agreed, giving her a solemn nod. “That she sure was,” Lottie sighed once, getting to cleaning the utensils she’d used and their two plates as well.

“You know I could’ve done that,” Louis reminded in protest as he stood up and walked to her side by the sink.

Lottie grinned as she washed, “Keep telling yourself that bro,” She whispered, shaking her head in amusement.

“Cheeky,” He flicked her nose once, making her ‘Hey!’ In protest. “Oh, right! Since you told me you don’t have anything to do until your train ride in the evening, I was thinking you could come to the studio and finally meet Harry,” Louis commented off-handedly, trying for a casual tone as he drew absent patterns on the marble counter, one finger dancing swiftly.

Lottie paused as she turned the tap off, turning to him with a towel drying her hands off.

She walked towards him and smiled, “I, would absolutely love that,” She answered, a sense of excitement bubbling in her voice as she tried to conceal it with the same casual tone.

Louis rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Lottie if you’re going to make this a thing, then don’t think I will bring you. He’s just a bloody friend. If you go today with any other intention but to say hello and mindless chatter, I will chop off all your hair and burn your makeup,” Louis warned as he pointed an accusing finger at his sister. The moment vividly reminded him when they were teenagers, and she used to act the same way whenever he began talking about any new male friends.

Lottie widened her big, blue eyes and placed a delicate hand on her chest, in mock-offense. “I take your lack of trust in me very seriously. I would never be like that to you, Boobear,” She said as if his words had actually hurt her.

Louis threw his head back and groaned loudly. “This is what I get for being nice to you,” He yelled in defiance as he stomped to his room, ignoring Lottie’s breathless laugh.

 

+

 

It could be an understatement to say that Louis was nervous. Thankfully, his morning pills always alleviated any distress to his heart, making his trip to his record label particularly less stressful. Though Louis hadn’t uttered another word about the curly-haired boy, he could feel Lottie vibrating with excitement beside him on the car. He’d warned she couldn’t appear, shocked, starstruck or endeared by any means. He’d tirelessly explained that Harry was the most down-to-earth and humble person she would ever meet, and, should, therefore, act the same way towards him. Harry was a sweet person, and Louis had no doubt in his mind that he would leave the best impression for his sister, but he worried that Lottie would be forward enough to try to get some answers from Harry.

Answers for what, he wasn’t sure yet, but he still dreaded arriving to work.

As the car pulled up, Louis jumped out first, being quick to stop his sister before she could get too far. “Look Lotts. I don’t know how many more times I have to say this before I feel assured enough, but Harry is like a terrified squirrel, okay? He’s friendly as long as you don’t get too bold with him. I’m telling and asking you one last time to stick to our practiced conversation topics, for my sake and his,” Louis warned, shivering slightly even though the weather was warm and pleasant in London.

Lottie gave Louis a small smile as she let him freak out, waiting as he finished rambling for the hundredth time. “I get it, Lou, I got it the third time we had this chat,” She assured her brother carefully, rubbing his shoulders in consolation. “I’m not a piece of shit; you know that right?” Lottie asked, quirking an eyebrow with crossed arms as Louis made a sound of doubtfulness.

Lottie scoffed and slapped his arm in protest, rolling her eyes as she dragged her brother through the glass doors, where Sarah happily greeted them with a wave of her hand, phone resting between her ear and shoulder as she kept writing something down, her assistant by the computer beside her.

Sarah quickly pointed to the ceiling while mouthing ‘They’re already here,’ referring to Harry and his band, who usually liked to arrive earlier than Louis so they could have time to set up each of their instruments while Harry helped and warmed up.

Louis nodded once, Lottie still dragging him, they called the lift.Louis’ stomach began somersaulting when the doors dinged and rolled open, the music inside bringing him no pleasure as they stepped inside and pressed Louis’ office floor number.

He watched the numbers quickly being to light up on the screen above the doors, each floor seeming like a countdown somehow.

He tried to quickly fix his hair on the mirror behind them, before the doors dinged once more and slid quietly, the voices of Mitch and Sarah laughing on the recording studio only a few feet away from the lift doors.

They both stepped out, and Lottie eagerly looked inside the studio doors, searching for Harry’s familiar face so that Louis could introduce them.

Louis felt the cold steel of dread weigh his stomach as he rubbed a distracted hand on his chest. He tried to fix his features to a more pleased and happy mood as he entered the studio, the band greeting him cheerfully.

He immediately noticed that Harry wasn’t among any of his band members, sudden sounds of chords being played into amplifiers and distant laughs in the big studio filled the quiet, soundproofed air. Louis quietly approached Adam and asked for Harry, who seemed to have gone to the bathroom. It calmed Louis, as he’d begun thinking he’d skipped their session because of what had happened.

Louis introduced each of Harry’s band members to his sister, who happily shook their hands and exchanged polite ‘nice to meet you’s.’ She began a lively conversation about clothes with Claire and decided to let her be until Harry came back. Better to have her distracted.

It was as Louis was beginning to relax slowly when the doors to the studio opened once more, and in came Harry, dressed in a charming open patterned shirt. Giant yellow stars splayed across black, with another plain black shirt underneath, tight skinny jeans painted onto his giraffe legs, and Gucci boots sealing the picturesque outfit together.

When Louis was done briefly analyzing the boy’s outfit, his mouth dropped wide open. He was met with his piercing green eyes and no long, curly hair by his shoulders. Instead, his beautiful brown hair had been almost completely cut off; the only remainder was the styled front, that looked too good with Harry’s beautiful features. Louis was shocked enough to gasp rather loudly. Clasping a hand to his mouth as he stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of him. Harry stood sheepishly by the entrance; one hand tucked self-consciously at the back of his neck. He stared at the ground with two dimples on full display, and an embarrassed smile splayed across his lips as he chuckled quietly. His feet were turned inward all of a sudden, and he looked like a shy puppy making Louis’ inner debate set into a fiery explosion inside his brain.

Louis whispered an unbelieving ‘Oh, my god,’ while the band laughed, their reactions having already happened way before he’d arrived. Harry just kept shifting his eyes from the floor to Louis and back to the floor. Louis suddenly sprung back and shook his head, trying to clear his surprise.

“W-what- you're, the hair- it’s, what?” Louis asked at a loss for words, his eyes still wide as he kept staring at a bashful Harry.

Harry shrugged dismissively as he scrunched his face, “It’s nothing. Just donated it since it got too long,” he explained with a smile, as if he’d done nothing but change clothes or brush his teeth.

Louis stared for another beat, “It looks amazing H,” He suddenly burst out, almost frantically. He'd almost forgot to compliment the bloody Greek god before him.

Harry's eyes noticeably widened at Louis' compliment and answered with a bashful smile and a tinge of relief. "Thanks, Lou."

Louis’ mind was spinning too fast, admiring how much more accentuated his features looked without any hair framing his sharp cheekbones and his perfectly defined jawline. He’d loved Harry with long hair. It brought an air of sincereness and gentleness to his character, but Harry’s new haircut brought new energy of sensuality and jauntiness, his eyes seeming brighter, now that they were much more visible.

He chuckled breathlessly as he shook his head in disbelief; just when he’d thought Harry had no more tricks up his sleeve, another sudden surprise would jump out at him instantly.

  
Harry’s eyes kept flickering to something behind Louis’ back, which instantly reminded him of his sister who was standing a few feet away, watching everything unfold in front of her, front seat view.

“Oh right! H this is my younger-oldest sister, Charlotte Tomlinson, though all of us prefer to call her Lottie,” Louis introduced, hands motioning to Lottie who was staring as calmly as she could muster up at the tall pop star before her.

Harry’s eyes lit in realization as he quickly walked towards her and Louis could swear he heard her squeal very, very quietly. Way to act professionally.

“What a pleasure Lottie, Lou’s talked so much about you,” Harry said excitedly as he absentmindedly brushed a ringed finger through his short hair. Probably suffering from phantom hair syndrome and the like.

Lottie smiled dazedly up at Harry, “The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard so much about you as well,” She added as she quickly glanced at Louis before her eyes immediately flashed back to Harry’s.

Harry smiled down at her, “All good things I hope,” He said quietly, a blush rushing up his neck as he coughed nervously into his closed fist.

Lottie nodded frantically as she kept smiling, “Yeah, like you wouldn’t believe-’’ She began with a humorous tilt before quickly cutting herself off, Louis sending her seething daggers where he stood over Harry’s shoulder as he just chuckled lightly.

“Well we’ve got a long day ahead of us, so Lottie why don’t you go to the couch and watch,” Louis asked through gritted teeth while giving his sister a pointed look.

She dead-panned at Louis before sitting on the couch, much to Louis’ surprise. She never listened to him.

“And H, I think we have a final run of Sweet Creature for the rest of the day,” Louis noted as he squinted at the paper taped over the wall above the monitors, struggling to read any of the printed text taped on the wall. Then, a lean hand appeared in front of his vision, where Harry was holding his glasses.

Louis snapped his head to look at him, but Harry wasn't even looking. He was looking down at a messy music sheet in concentration. He'd known Louis wouldn't be wearing them and had them ready for him when he once again tried to read the papers without them.

Louis refused to explicitly admit it, but there was something incredibly domestic about it that had his stomach fluttering.

Harry’s fingers were skimming lightly over the pages, oblivious to the thunderstorm and earthquakes he was continually causing in him.

Here Louis stood, confused and overpowered by his emotions, head going miles a minute. Such a small gesture had instantly caused him to overthink, thoughts and ‘what ifs’ speeding past his mind as he struggled to compose himself.

His sister’s very fake and terrible cough snapped him out, her eyes wide as she gave him a questioning glare, hands and shoulders lifted in an inquisitive manner.

Louis looked away quickly, checking that Harry hadn’t noticed his quiet outburst, and felt relief when he noticed him now walking towards his microphone on the other side of the booth, still distracted as his ringed fingers absentmindedly pulled and squeezed his lower lip. Louis groaned internally.

“Ok lads and ladies, let’s do the final run for Sweet Creature and make it a good one, so the boss likes it,” Steven, their audio engineer, said amused as he gave the band two thumbs up.

Louis had been absent to their last session when a panicked Liam had called him asking him to come down to a studio downtown so they could go over Sam’s latest lyrics for his album. Louis had reluctantly agreed and ordered the band to go on with Steven in the meantime. Now, Louis was ready to hear the song, fully-fleshed and built.

Claire and Harry returned the thumbs up and smiled before they quickly went back to their instruments, the band waiting for Sarah’s cue.

The music was quick to start; Mitch was the only actual instrument to play as the others served for backup vocals in the chorus and bridge. Louis crossed an anxious arm against his chest, his other elbow resting calmly on top of his arm as he grazed his fingers to his mouth, focusing only on Harry and his facial expressions. When Mitch’s intro finished, Harry came in immediately.

_Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong_

Harry had a fiery passion for this song, and he knew it the second they’d started writing it. Harry had been ecstatic when Louis complimented his songwriting and the mellow guitar he’d fixed up for it. He’d been dying to finally record it, and though he was aware they’d done it twice before, Harry’s care and love for the song’s message had floored Louis, now leaving him speechless as he watched him perform it.

 _But we’re still young, I don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong  
_  
_Know we started, two hearts in one home, it’s hard when we argue we’re both stubborn, I know_

Harry had to be open whenever they wrote down lyrics, opening up about his life experiences and how they’d either scarred or helped him be who he was today. Harry was a lot of layers, one after the other; never-ending. Louis would usually be left exhausted by the end of their writing sessions, his heart worn out from the sudden spikes of adrenaline.

Harry would take him by surprise, sometimes a look was enough, other times he would suddenly take out his old and used black, leather book - the cover full of scribbles and doodles, left there since he’d gotten it from his sister at fourteen years old, his heart exploding in his chest as he listened to the different stories each page contained.

Harry told Louis the story of how he’d gotten it on his birthday, and his sister had made him promise to fill it, only with words that would take him to his biggest of dreams. To fill it with lyrics and poems, never forgetting his goals.

Harry, as usual, had gotten a little teary-eyed as he explained how he usually missed her the most whenever he was away.

He never liked to admit it, but Gemma reminded Harry of easier and happier times when it was just the three of them against the world, and how refreshing and reassured he felt whenever he got to talk to her. Harry profusely repeated how he adored his mother, but he also could easily say that Gemma brought a sense of peace to him whenever she was able to catch a train to London. Harry explained how much shit his sister would give him if she ever found out, and made Louis promise to never tell her when they met.

Louis’ composure had turned on its axis as he struggled to remain calm and amused when thoughts kept expanding and swimming in his mind so loud, it almost couldn’t be compared to thunder.

 _Meet his family._ He'd sighed and chuckled as he averted his eyes then, laughing it off as Harry continued, as always, oblivious.

“I wrote this one song for her that I wanted you to check out,” Harry had said shyly, long curls tucked behind his ear as he'd bit his lips nervously, fingers smoothly pointing to his neat handwriting, lyrics tucked away on a corner of the filled paper before Louis.

He’d smiled as he’d read them then, explaining to the curly boy how wonderful and sweet the words rolled off the page and how beautifully they connected to the harmony. He even dared to admit it could be his favorite from the bunch.

Harry had blushed, as it was usual then, dimples indented by the sides of his cheeks as he’d stood up on wobbly legs and busied himself with one of the guitars so they could begin tying and connecting the verses.

Coming back and seeing the final product left an uncomfortable feeling in Louis’ throat as he struggled to swallow. He refused to identify what the feeling was but continued to intently listen to Harry’s lyrics rolling like satin through the recording studio, never losing their delicateness.

 _Sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home_  
_Sweet creature, when I run out of rope, you bring me home_

Harry was of the few Louis could say, who truly lost himself in the music. He would sing as if no one but him was there, closing his eyes as he carried out each note flawlessly, unaware of the awe that filled everyone on the other side of the booth.

Turning to see his sister’s reaction proved him correct, her eyes glazed as she struggled to remain still while listening, Steven watching with wide eyes, leaning closer to Louis as he pointed towards the glass dividing both sides. “He never did it like that,” He explains astonished.

Just as Louis looked back up again Harry was already by the bridge, the band joining with delicate harmonies while Harry went his own way, belting out, his neck veins visible even all the way from the other side as he openly put all his energy while singing that specific part, hands folded tightly against his legs as he moved away from the microphone slightly, eyes scrunched shut and eyebrows drawn together.

It was like watching calm waves by a shore, suddenly pick momentum as they crashed flawlessly on to the sand. Like lightning and no thunder, he couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle.

Louis had to physically hold back a gasp as he heard the incredible range of Harry’s vocals, how easily he could mold his chords to the song and go back to singing calmly as if he hadn’t just perfectly belted out a few seconds ago.

His hands were delicate as they fixed his in-ear pieces. It was an infinitesimal second before Harry said the last lyrics of the song, that he looked up briefly; green eyes ablaze with emotion as he looked steadily and clearly at Louis through the window, making him suddenly feel as if a spotlight was burning painfully on his face.

 _When I run out of road_ _, you bring me home; You’ll bring me home_

The guitar carried on with Sarah and Clare who finished the melodies with Mitch. Then there were the beats of silence as everyone took the performance in. Louis just stared rigidly through the glass at the curly haired boy, who was now slowly peeling his eyes away. Suddenly everyone was clapping in the studio. Claps were sounding like bombs after the band's mellow performance.

Lottie and Steven were loudly clapping and whistling, the band yelling and cheering as they clapped Harry’s back and shook his shoulders in congratulations, making the boy himself blush more than ever before, smile to the floor as he smiled a dimpled grin and bashfully rubbed his nape, walking with his band back outside of the booth.

As they walked back, their cheers and praises became clearer, no longer inside the soundproof room. Harry immediately walked towards Louis with a question set in his eyes, brows furrowed in concern. “Did you- uh, did you like it? I- I know I changed a few riffs and lyrics but, I don’t know. It’s not that I didn’t like your original ideas, b-but I just, really liked those few changes, and I wanted to… you know-’’

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis finally said as he immediately crushed Harry in a tight hug, hands curled firmly against Harry’s torso. He hummed contently as Harry’s rigid and shocked posture dissolved, his large hands instantly engulfing Louis’ smaller frame. Louis untucked his head and placed it on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you love, this song will shatter the charts,” He said truthfully in a quiet whisper, so only Harry could hear it.

Clapping his back, he let Harry’s wide eyes go as he stepped back and let Steven high-five him as well, stepping back to let all the others share their praises with him.

All the while though, Harry kept oddly staring at Louis, his eyes only moving away for a second before they moved back up to him again and again, making Louis squirm under his gaze as he made a show of dusting off lint from his cozy jacket and checking his sneakers for any stains. Louis wouldn’t admit it but the eyes of the man before him caused for his chest to contract painfully every time they met. The bright memory of the ball burning holes in the back of his brain. It wasn’t a painful feeling on its own, but it worried Louis that maybe his heart was trying to desperately tell his mind something Louis didn’t want to listen to.

He didn’t want to believe he was actually falling for Harry fucking Styles.

+

 

Steven and Louis spent all afternoon mixing and touching up the song but finally found a nook of time to call Liam.

“I looked at the case and… it’s bad Lou,” Liam said as opening, voice strained as the sound of paper ruffling caught on the speakers. His stress was visible on the phone, and maybe it was because he’d known Liam his whole life, but he just knew how much he wanted help Harry as well.

Louis cursed under his breath as he placed a hand on his forehead, arms resting on top of his glass desk, glasses pushed to the top of his head. He breathed an exasperated sigh of worry, leaning back in his chair as a sudden headache bloomed at the sides of his skull. “Fuck, I should’ve seen this coming,” Louis lamented as he closed his eyes, finding some sense of comfort in the darkness.

“What’s the next step?”

Liam hummed as he took a second, “Well from what I talked to James, he said that we should be careful not to alert Modest so that we have enough time to deal with this and talk to our lawyers. He’s looking into it, but he did tell me to tell you that there’s hope Lou, like, it’s not completely out of our control. We just need a good loophole so we can somehow work out a blackmail source, so the press can get ahold of the deceiving contracts that they’re giving to new artists; it’s abuse man. None of this is morally right, I’m looking at some major scandals right here on my desk,” Liam said, aggravation clear as he probably glared at the papers scattered all over his desk.

Louis frowned as he sat up, head spinning fast as he thought. They could meet with their lawyers and have Harry present, so he could state exactly how he wanted the process to pan out. He could give some insight into how his management worked, so it would be easier for the lawyers to find an access point to attack them if the case ever ended up in court.

Rubbing a tired hand across his face, Louis nodded to himself, “Yeah, I can only imagine what those bastards have been covering up - for years probably. Look, I’ll see if I can talk to Harry and set up a meeting with the suits, so we can all plan out exactly what he wants, I’m not sure he wants to be out. He just mentioned how much he hated Modest forcing him into these make-believe dates with girls he wasn’t even dating."

"We need to talk to him first before we do anything drastic,” Louis advised as he rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension from his skull a tiny bit, to no avail.

Liam hummed in agreement, “Yeah let’s do that then, give me a call when you’ve got it all set up, and I’ll place a date with the lawyers,” He said decisively, “I’ll talk later. I’ve got Sam’s manager breathing down my neck, and I swear I’ll kill him if he ‘casually’ walks by my office one more time,” Liam said through gritted teeth as he stood up, leaving all of Harry’s files stuffed on his safe.

Louis chuckled quietly as he agreed and hung up.

Looking around his office, he stood up and walked towards his shelf on the left side of his office, opening a small blue box. Inside, Louis had stashed some emergency medicine through the years, always making sure to keep it up to date. Taking out an Ibuprofen, he quickly swallowed two down, immediately yelping in pain when a hand tugged harshly on his ear.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lottie asked disbelievingly. Her long nails were digging painfully into Louis’ ear as she pulled him down, making him groan in protest from below.

Louis tried pulling her hand away, only making it worse as she pulled even harder. “Ow ow! Okay shit Lottie, let go,” Louis exclaimed as he slapped her hands quickly. She rolled her eyes once before letting go, quickly taking the blue box from the shelf and examining its contents.

“Stop! Give it back,” Louis said immediately when he spotted her wide eyes going over the labels on the orange tubes.

Lottie gasped and gave Louis a bewildered expression, showing her brother the incriminating medicine. “You are not supposed to be taking these pills, Louis!” She exclaimed shocked; her eyebrows scrunched in anger.

Louis groaned to the ceiling as he placed his hands on his hips, the fatigue from little sleep and his rollercoaster of a day giving him no aid on the situation.

“Lotts, I get headaches sometimes. I can’t just battle through them when I’m working; they’re distracting,” Louis explained as patiently as he could muster, hoping Harry and the band were still inside the studio, and not listening to their discussion.

Lottie scoffed, “Oh, so instead you take the pills that increase your risk of a bloody heart attack?” She bellowed angrily, shaking the pills furiously on her hand. She was fuming mad, and Louis instinctively got mad as well.

“Well, I refuse to have those fucking headaches when I can easily take the pills and call it a day Charlotte. Stop being so nosy and give me the box,” Louis ordered as he felt his patience wearing thin.

Lottie shook her head as she bolted out of the office and headed straight for the stairs at the side of the elevator.

Louis immediately knew what she was doing and followed after her. Thankfully, the studio’s door had been left shut, so neither Harry or the others heard or saw the commotion just a few feet away from the recording booth.

“Come back Lottie, don’t you dare...!” Louis said as he went down the stairs and to the swinging door Lottie had just gone through. “You’re being a dramatic shit, I swear.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s for your own good, I’ll be the worst shit ever,” Lottie warned as she walked straight to the bathrooms, right by an old set of instruments, left abandoned along the storage room. Entering, she quickly opened the cap of the bottle and in one swift move dumped the few remaining pills down the toilet, flushing it for good measure before she threw the empty bottle to Louis’ chest, angrily cursing at him.

“Why do you keep doing shit that can hurt you, Louis? What would the girls say if they knew, huh? Liam and Zayn? Do you not care for them? For me, you insensitive asshole?” Lottie said loudly, not yet yelling but almost on the brink of doing so.

Louis just stood there, properly chastised as he saw the clear and raw fear in his sister’s eyes. It was the same look she’d given him when they’d all stood by their mother’s bed, the youngest twins happily laying asleep by her side as the rest of his siblings looked on at him, the counted days quickly beginning to shorten.

It was the same look she gave him when Jay passed, and the babies kept asking for their mum, or when the twins broke down while they would lay on their living room couches, trying to find a way to make their lives move forward.

Louis’ chest hurts as he looks at her now, still terrified and lost.

An angry frown is etched onto her features as he takes a tentative step forward, arms slowly raising as he reaches his sister and immediately engulfs her in his arms, her breathless protests never wavering Louis’ intent as he hugs her tightly, calming her down.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, eyes scrunched shut as he places his cheek on top of her head, guilt trickling up his spine. Once he begins thinking that he’s finally managed to be better for his sisters, he fucks up again, a never-ending cycle following him.

He tries to stop taking pain-killers so Lottie can sleep better knowing her brother takes the best care of himself. He doesn’t drink alcohol so he can stay alive and see his family grow up and chase their dreams and succeed. He constantly tries, but there come times when his resilience is tested, and he always loses somehow.

He never manages to cling on a little longer, always too weak to endure a simple fucking headache or another checkup at the hospital. He hasn’t gone to a checkup in three months, but Lottie doesn’t need to know that.

He’ll try again, he decides. He’ll begin doing the mandatory, monthly checkups as he used to do before their mother’s passing. He can’t bear to be the cause of the terror in his sister’s eyes; he won’t be.

“I’ll be better Lotts; I swear I will,” Louis whispers as he rubs a soothing hand on her back.

She hums unsurely. Sighing in defeat, she lets go as she looks up at him. “We need you, Louis. If you-’’ Lottie cuts herself off as she breaks their gazes, looking at the tiled wall next to her, struggling to say the words. She crosses her arms, “If you… die, then just know I’ll go wherever the fuck you go and pull you back here. I won’t let you be a git to the girls,” She warns with a steely promise in her eyes as she raises both eyebrows at him.

Louis swallows thickly and nods in understanding, knowing fully well that his sister means every word. He understands that if anything happened to him, he would officially break his sisters and his best friends. He couldn’t think selfishly anymore, he’d gotten away with it for a few months, but if Lottie decided to tell Liam or Zayn, it’d be over for him. They’d force him to live with them, be suffocatingly near him, making sure he’d do weekly checkups, mother-henning the life out of him. He could be better, and he would be. He just had to keep telling himself that this time it’d last.

 

+

 

A few hours later, Louis left the Triple Strings building with Lottie.

They’d managed to finish mixing and editing the song, a final listen had given the band an incredible boost, as they all left with excited grins. Harry had pulled him to the side after Louis had come back up with a flustered Lottie by his side.

“Hey, is- you know, is everything ok?” Harry had asked with concern as he’d stared intently into Louis’ eyes, making the older lad blush under his intense gaze.

“Yeah H, don’t worry about it. Just stuff I needed to talk to Lottie about,” Louis assured, a spark of fear radiating at the center of his stomach as he considered that maybe Harry had heard him and Lottie arguing and had finally pieced everything together. “Why’d you ask?” Louis asked gently, not wanting to come off paranoid or suspicious. He trusted Harry to tell him if he’d overheard anything that had happened.

“Oh, nothing. You just seemed distracted s’all. Have a good night Lou, see you tomorrow,” Harry had mumbled sheepishly as he’d stepped off the lobby and walked away to the parking lot, getting into his car swiftly with his guitar strapped on his back.

Louis sighed as he thought of Harry - something he’d tended to do a lot nowadays; his thoughts continuously plaguing his concentration every other hour.

He thought about how he’d break the news to Harry, about his contract. How he’d take it if he ever found out about of Louis’ heart. How he’d probably forget all about him by the time his album went live online and at stores. He feared that Harry could be feigning his friendliness and care for Louis just so the album turned out his way, and not as Jeff Azoff dictated. Louis had been, after all, his way out. If Louis hadn’t stepped in and agreed to produce Harry’s album, some other studio could’ve taken it upon themselves to write the album and would’ve never given him any say in the songs or the lyrics. He would’ve been produced to have a plastic, and Hollywood inclined image of the perfect pop-star with the girls, the money, and the incredible, shiny cars.

Louis cringed at the thought as he struggled to erase the image of a depressed Harry, hidden behind a mask of wealth and power, never able to voice his own thoughts and messages to the world. The thought reminded him that he shouldn’t doubt Harry. The boy he knew was kind and gentle. He was filled with more dreams and goals than anyone who Louis had ever worked with before. He had gotten the privilege to get to know Harry Styles before he became a household name before the glitz and glamor blinded all of his fangirls to long for him.

In the past month, he’d gotten to know him, Louis had learned that Harry was sensitive and polite. He’d been brought up to be a well-mannered man with utmost respect for people, his love for his family unconditional, never bad mouthing anyone he ever crossed. Louis shook his head as he dismissed his mind’s loud voice.

Lottie and Louis were now standing at King’s Cross once more, Louis carrying Lottie’s bags as she walked beside him towards her gate.

“You’re totally gone for him,” Lottie piped in, eyes full of mirth as she walked slowly, not looking back at Louis who had snapped his head to her profile immediately.

“Excuse me?” Louis asked astonished as he briefly stopped walking to give her an incredulous look, actually terrified to wonder how she’d known what he’d been pondering about.

“Louis, it’s you we’re talking about. You never shut up, not even when you really have to. You’ve been quiet since I arrived yesterday. Which, let me tell you, it’s a new record for you,” Lottie explained as she stopped as well and turned to her brother a few feet away. “I saw the way you looked at him today when he was singing. You’re absolutely whipped bro, there’s no kind way to put it,” She said with a smirk, eyes mischievous as she bounced a tiny bit on her heels.

Louis scoffed at her, eyes scrunched in disbelief, “I wasn’t watching him in any way! You were the one who actually squealed when he went to greet you!” Louis accused impatiently, hands waving around as passerby gave them strange looks.

Lottie laughed loudly, head thrown back like an evil cartoon. She stopped for a second and looked at her brother, “Love, I’ve already got a wonderful boyfriend, who I live with,” Lottie remarked with a challenging eyebrow. “Sure, I got a little starstruck, but I don’t actually feel attracted to him. You, on the other hand,” She said, eyes snapping away from him as she laughed quietly while staring at nothing in particular, only making Louis screech in irritation.

“You little shit! ‘I, on the other hand,’ nothing! He’s just a bloody friend, and that’s the end of that. No secret admiration, no Nicholas Sparks bullshit. I like him as a friend, and I will bloody well die saying that. Harry Styles is a just a friend who is very fucking nice, and that’s it!” Louis said in frustration while gripping the ends of his hair.

Lottie remained quiet for the longest time, just looking at her brother with a small smile posed upon her lips, eyebrows raised in curiosity. It was the same fucking eyes his mother would make whenever she knew exactly when he was lying to get away with something. It radiated a feeling of wistfulness.

Another beat passed before he kneeled down to collect his sister’s bag, straightening as he thought he’d finished the conversation.

“Why does it bother you so much then?”

“Oh, bloody fucking hell, go away Lottie. Call me when you get to Donny.”

+

**HARRY**

It had been a month. A wonderful, scary and extremely weird month.

Harry could say that he’d lived through stranger occasions, but it would’ve been a bloody lie indeed. He’d finally recorded the one song he was looking forward to performing for an audience. It would also be an understatement to think the album wasn’t doing well. Harry was eager to show the fans what he’d been working on.

His social media accounts were exploding lately. Last night he'd simply tweeted ‘Album.’ in his usual cryptic messages, and everyone had understood that he was indeed working on his first record.

Arriving home after the long session at the studio didn’t give him the relaxation he sought though.

Opening the door to his apartment, he was instantly met with a sock, drenched in some form of unknown liquid, slapped straight to his face. It took him a second to understand it had happened before he yelled in horror and immediately threw it off himself.

Wetly slapping against the floor, a very red and jolly Niall laughed his ass off from the living room couch, from which he’d barely gotten off since he’d arrived back to London.

“Niall! That’s disgusting you git. What the fuck was that sock even drenched with?!” Harry asked disgusted as he wiped fervently at his face with the hem of his black t-shirt.

“Dunno found it at the bottom of my pile of dirty clothes. Could be honey and old water but I can’t be bothered to check,” Niall replied as he scrolled through his phone mindlessly, unbothered by Harry’s presence.

Harry squawked in horror as he sprinted to the sink in the kitchen, spraying the water straight to his face as Niall kept laughing, eyes never wavering from the screen.

After he’d dried his face, he took both of his shirts off, no saving for them as he’d drenched both with water in the process. Entering the living room, Niall was quick to cat-call him obnoxiously loud. “Someone’s getting ripped at the gym I see,” Niall teased, referring to the set of muscle that Harry had busted his ass off to get.

Harry rolled his eyes and flipped Niall off, quickly going into his room to get a new shirt.

“Niall, do you always have to be the worst roommate?” He asked with his head still going through the neck hole, struggling to pull it over his head. His foot moved involuntarily as he stumbled to fix his shirt, suddenly feeling his foot slap on a piece of cake that laid forgotten beside the coffee table. The dressing making a terrible noise as it adhered to his foot.

Niall snorted as he ate his chips, laptop perched on top of his stomach. “Yes,” he answered carefree, giving Harry a side-eye before he returning to his typing.

Harry groaned in annoyance as he flicked a pillow straight to his Irish friend’s head, to no avail. He wasn’t bothered by anything that wasn't strictly golf related.

Stomping to the kitchen with half of his foot raised from the floor, to avoid any more messes, he continued to wipe the dessert off himself. As he turned to throw the paper towel, he gasped when he noticed the horrid state the kitchen had left in.

Dirty plates and empty containers left on the counter, different colored sauces spilled across some surfaces, others plagued with glasses of what faintly looked like leftover ice cream.

“Je suis fatigué de nettoyage après vous! J'espère qu'un jour tu pourras rencontrer quelqu'un qui peut t'aimer vraiment branleur. Vous êtes un connard égoïste qui ne peut jamais penser à rien mais ses bâtons de golf stupide,” Harry snapped, fed up.

He even stomped an angry foot on the ground, for effect - knowing he probably looked childish but not really caring enough to do anything about it.

Niall looked proper surprised for half a second before he resumed his natural sloth-like position on the couch. “So… I get that you go all baguette on me when you’re actually kind of pissed, but I would love a quick translation,” Niall commented calmly, showing how unimpressed he was by slumping further into the plush couch.

Harry constantly wondered why he put up with Niall.

  
He gripped tightly on the ends of his hair now, rubbing both hands down his face as he counted down from ten. Niall was an expert on getting on his nerves, and he knew exactly what to do or say to make him suddenly snap out. It had been on the first year that Niall and Harry met in high-school when Niall discovered Harry was half-french. It was something he’d accidentally stumbled upon while he’d been driving him insane.

As Harry had been driving them home from school one day, Niall decided to bother him enough to make him really angry. Curious to see him pissed for the first time, he’d done everything in his power to drive Harry up the wall. He’d began by pulling down all four windows and yelling obscenities to passerby on the streets. Harry had only chastised him then. Niall had then proceeded to place his nasty vans on Harry’s freshly cleaned dash, obnoxiously yelling in his ear. Harry had somehow kept his cool and told him to stop it. By the time Niall had played the eleventh, most annoying song at full volume, Harry had been done with him. He’d broken into a full ass rant, completely in French. Never stopping for air and never pausing as he kept on blasting him, word after word. Niall for his part had been left pleasantly surprised.

Not many things could surprise him or shut him up, but Harry’s sudden speech sure had for a while. He remembers coming to when Harry had finished. He’d broken down into hysterical giggles. He remembers laughing so hard he had to beg Harry to stop the car so he could pee. It was afterward that Harry told him his father was French, and that his family used to live in Paris when he was younger. He picked up the language quite easily from then, and his father had helped him perfect it as he’d grown up.

He explained how he enjoyed talking in French with his sister every once in a while, just so they could pester their mother.

“I said, that I am fucking tired of cleaning up after you,” Harry suddenly announced in his calmest tone, pacing slowly from one side of the living room to the other as he tried not to kill his best mate. The ongoing fight that Harry always seemed to have with Niall was the fact that he could be a right slob. He never bothered to place his dirty laundry in their laundry basket, or wash all the dishes he used throughout the day.

Harry would be lying if he said he had missed his roommate dearly. When a few months ticked by he would eventually begin to miss the noise around their flat. But once he came back from whatever tournament he’d gone off to, it would always go back to the same cycle of endless tirades on why Niall was a shit roommate and best mate.

Niall never really cared enough and never stopped being a shit, so, Harry had long since accepted that his best friend would remain a shit forever.

A sudden knock at the door startled Harry from his internal animation of him squashing Niall on the ground as he forced him to clean his dirty underwear. “Did you invite someone?”

“Must be the pizza. Here, tell ‘im to keep the change,” Niall commented, handing Harry a crumpled fifty-pound bill, not even checking what he was handing Harry as he placed another chip in his mouth.

“Could be a 'she' you know,” Harry piped in protest as he glared at Niall, taking the money and opening the door. With a pizza bag in one hand, and the usual uniform from the pizzeria a few streets down, stood a girl no older than seventeen, glasses perched at the tip of her nose and a bored expression as she read the receipt in her free hand. “Two large pepperoni Pizzas for… Neil Horan?” She asked in confusion as she looked up, her eyes widening immediately as she stared at Harry in complete shock, her eyes full of recognition.

Harry’s own eyes widened when it dawned on him that she knew who he was. She gasped in surprise and placed her hand to her mouth, muffling her squeal as she tried to compose herself. “Y-you’re H-Harry S-Styles,” She stuttered as her whole body began to shake, her eyes moving incredibly fast as she seemed to be taking him in.

If her eyes had widened any more, Harry would've worried they might pop out. “Y-your hair?” She said in realization as she stared at Harry’s head. Harry could feel his stomach turn as she kept shaking and immediately regretted answering the door for Niall.

“Uh- Um, yeah. I am,” He replied shyly, never getting used to people’s reactions whenever they recognized him. He’d been used to people never giving him a second glance, and though it flattered him to a certain extent, he still never understood why people ever reacted to him the way they did. In his opinion - and Niall’s - there wasn’t anything incredibly mind-blowing about him.

He liked to sing, and he tried his best to show people his talent without being annoying. The first time a pair of guys with expensive looking cameras began to follow him, Harry had been confused enough that he’d tried to move out of the way of the two men, only to be followed all the way from the grocery store’s entrance to his car a few steps away, flashes going off incessantly as they continuously asked questions about his ‘love life’ and his hobbies.

Harry still thinks it was quite odd. Of course, Niall being Niall, cackled for thirty minutes straight, before he slowly explained to Harry that the guys were paparazzi, looking to get a decent meal from Harry’s shopping spree. Harry had remained confused though, and he still was as the pizza girl stared at him in total awe.

“Do you- uh, want me to sign anything?” Harry asked hesitantly, dreading having to ask, he didn’t want to seem egotistical or full of himself.

The girl gasped in excitement as she nodded her head vigorously, eyes lit up as she handed him a pen and paper through shaking fingers.

Harry paused as he realized he didn’t know her name. “It’s Eliza, with a Z,” The girl quickly informed him, catching on as she smiled wide with the two pizzas still posted on her left arm.

Harry quickly signed it before handing it to her along with the fifty pounds Niall had handed him. “It was nice to meet you, Eliza,” Harry said politely as he took both pizzas and the receipt from her.

“Wait, this is way too much, let me-”

“Don’t worry, love. Keep the change,” Harry assured as he gave her a nod and shut the door behind him. A small squeal came from the other side, and he suppressed a laugh. Back in the living room, he placed both searing hot pizzas on top of Niall’s crotch before darting to the kitchen in case Niall tried to punch him.

“Ah! Fuck you, little shit!”

+

‘just talked to Liam, he and James Corden are working on your case now :) x.’

Harry had read the text over and over as he stood petrified in the hallway of his apartment. It’d been a few hours since his outburst in the living room. Since then, Niall had successfully convinced him to a glass of wine and a terrible movie, which he’d immediately regretted a few minutes after. He’d been complaining non-stop about how bored he was when Niall had ‘thrown him out’ of their living room, claiming he was too much of a crybaby to handle anything that wasn’t cartoons and musicals. Harry had weakly protested that he did enjoy rom-coms, which only made Niall gawk at him before he’d burst out laughing, cheeks red as he’d been doubled over on the couch, knee-slaps included.

Now he’d retreated to his room; the looming text displayed neatly on his phone. That one text message which meant a lot of things at the same time. Harry had heard incredible things about James Corden. He led one of the world’s most successful individual labels from Sony, 'Replay.' He had managed to recruit the best top acts the music industry had to offer, and he was also known for his resilient power among the rich and famous. James had won the most gruesome of cases, his keen eye for talent never failing him.

There was a great argument that Simon Cowell’s greedy ways could never be present in James’ workplace, his respect and care for his artists always being the praise on everyone’s mouths.

Harry could have his way out. James Corden could potentially be the one powerful enough to dare try to break his contract with Modest. There would sure be a lot of drama once the label got ahold of what Harry and his… well, the legal team were up to.  
The shrill ringing of his phone quickly snapped him off his head. He quickly got to his bedside table to unplug it before checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi baby,” His mum greeted warmly. Harry smiled softly and let her voice calm him down.

“Hi mum, how are you?”

“Good love, just wanted to check in and catch up is all,” Anne explains. “What have you been up to this week?” Her voice soothes him, but Harry still feels like screaming.

The relationship with his family never tended to distance, Gemma and his mum always calling to check how he’s been and Harry always managing to do the same for them. Since his parents divorced when Harry was relatively young, it was an instant connection that his sister and he suddenly found with their mum.  
  
One day his whole family would be walking hand in hand through the streets of Paris and the next his father was quietly packing his bags in the middle of the night and leaving a half-assed note for his mother to cry over for a few years to come.

Harry stills when a pang of pressure and pain hits him in the stomach as he remembers his mom’s muffled cries through her bedroom door. How Gemma made it her routine every night to pull him away from their mother’s doorstep so they could go back to sleep with heavy hearts and teary eyes. Out of the two Harry always turned out to be the more sensitive one, and though his cousins used to pester him about it, he never really minded having his sister hug him whenever he cried.

“Nothing much, just… the usual. Yeah,” He stammers out as he sits down clumsily on the edge of his bed. He never was any good at lying, especially to his mum. There’s a slight pause where Harry nervously chews on his lip, praying his mother would buy his pitiful answer.

She didn’t, of course.

“H, if you think your own mum won’t notice there’s something wrong then you’ve got another thing coming,” Anne warned quietly as she seemed to suddenly ignite with alert, tone sharp. Harry slumped forward his eyes begging to water from the utter exhaustion of keeping up his act.   
  
“Mum, it’s nothing. Just some trouble at work, really. Nothing I can’t handle on my own,” Harry tried to reassure weakly with a snotty voice, but years of experience had taught him how stubborn his sister and mother really were. His mum hummed in disagreement, hearing the slight tremor in his voice.  
  
“Come on, H. Give me some credit here. Just tell me what’s going on,” Anne insisted softly. She sat herself down by her kitchen counter, bracing both arms against the marble where she’d been fixing dinner for her husband, Robin, and her.

Harry just sighed heavily on the speaker and tried to control his emotions, hating how his throat seemed to suddenly close up as he stared up at the ceiling. Fuck, he only seemed to be crying lately.   
  
“It’s just,” Harry began, lip involuntarily curving as he quickly sniffed loudly away from his phone, “Management won’t stop forcing me to be papped with all these girls Mum, they want to make me go out with them so they can catch the attention of The Sun and all the other stupid papers,” Harry muttered as he struggled to keep his tone level, his eyes reddening quickly. He never could control his tears, they were his number one telltale that something was going on with him.   


His mum sighed with clear pain, “Oh my baby,” Anne said in lament, lowering her head to the ground as she tried to think of a reasonable thing to say. The thing was though, Anne hadn’t been handed a “Parenting for Pop-Stars 101” anywhere. She’d had to blindly guess what some things meant and what the gravity of some situations could cause. She’d had to analyze her son’s words carefully before giving any type of advice. But, she was still a mum, and she liked to think she’d done a fairly good job so far. She knew her son well enough to comfort him.   
  
“You’re a smart man Harry,” Anne said candidly, her tone firm, eyes closed. “I know for a fact you can do _anything_ your mind sets for itself-’’

Harry made a soft hum in protest but Anne cut him off.   
  
“-None of that Harry Edward, you’re _smart;_ incredibly so. You’ll get out of this as you have gotten out of so many other things before. Or should I remind you of all those times you managed to convince the headmaster not to call me after you’d magically gotten your hand stuck to a table with a whole roll of tape?” She asked amused, Harry’s own smile quirking shakily at the corners as he wiped a few tears away. “Or that one time you’d got caught in the school kitchen chatting with the cooks for hours instead of going to class? There are plenty more stories to last us till morning H, but the point of all of them is how you worked yourself out of those situations, always confident you would somehow convince everyone around you to grant you the favor,” She advises softly then, her voice relaxing Harry’s tense muscles as he breathes his first clear breath, the vice on his throat loosening a fraction, granting him air again. “You have to pull yourself back up and keep looking for a solution, not an escape route. I know you, baby, I know you’re strong enough to take this on. Fight them every step of the way, make them _want_ to let you come out, find other alternatives, say no when they order you around. Just keep moving forward and hold your head, high darling. I need you to stay afloat as long as you can bare it. If you can’t, you can always escape to your old bedroom for as long as you want, you know?” Anne says quietly as she whispers soothingly into the phone. Even though her words are determined and bold, her voice never quivers from the tiny murmur that always calms Harry down.

He nods even though his mother can’t see him, “I know mum. Thank you,” He replied shakily as he keeps wiping his eyes. “I’ll probably be fine though, after all-” He says with the first hint of a genuine smile since he’d talked to management, “- I have Niall bloody Horan to comfort me,” He says amused, eyes crinkled as he chuckles into the speaker of his cell.   
  
His mother breaks off laughing as well, both giggling as they try to catch their breaths once more.

“You best take care of that poor lad. Got himself a thousand trophies but still can’t manage to make a hard-boiled egg,” Anne teases as she calms her laugh. They quiet slowly, Harry clearing his throat as he returns to the topic at hand. His chest feeling incredibly lighter.   
  
“Really thank you, Mum. Couldn’t do it without you,” Harry says truthfully as he lays back on his bed, tired eyes closed as he rubs them softly.   
  
Anne hums in agreement then, “You’re right, but remember darling that where you are right now is all your own hard work. _You_ got yourself to London and to a nice flat in the best part of the city. _You_ have made wonderful friends in the industry because _you’re_ lovely. You made it all happen on your own. I am very proud of you sweetheart,” She whispers quietly into the speaker as if it’s a secret only for them to know. Harry smiles softly.  
  
“Thank you,” He whispers back, “I’ll let you get back to your cooking,” He says lightly, eyes now trained on his white ceiling, no visible sight of any scratches or stains, making his eyes unfocus into the color.   
  
They say their goodbyes and suddenly Harry is once again in the imminent silence of his room.   
  
Until Niall barges in with a half-eaten slice of pizza and demands a long cuddle and a feet-massage.   
  
Thank God for Niall Horan.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeeesus I'm taking forever with this book! I swear I'm trying my hardest, but something always seems to come up right as I'm about to sit down and write a new chapter. I'll try to be faster with chapter 8, promise!
> 
> Love you all and thank you for the kind and adorable messages :) x

_**7** _

_“Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson._ We’re _calling you again on behalf of Dr. Bashore’s office to set up a checkup as soon as possible? Please don’t hesitate to call us back whenever you have a chance to schedule an appointment. We hope you’re well, have a nice day.”_

Louis listened to the seventh voicemail stashed on his phone and finally just checked the rest of them and deleted all of them at once.

It had actually been three months since he’d gone to get his checkups, but since Lottie’s breakdown, he couldn’t afford to miss another month of them. It’s just that he hated the doctor’s look. How he would sit there and repeat the same diagnosis, again and again, every month since he’d moved to London. It almost felt like the universe loved rubbing it in his face.  
You can’t abuse your body’s energy. Try to stay away from these products for the month. Sleep more. Work less. Take this list of pills until our next appointment. Stay away from stressful situations that could potentially harm you.

Louis could lip-sync to the doctor’s orders almost perfectly. He didn’t need to go again to listen to his same old tired story. But he would, of course, for his siblings and best friends. So they wouldn’t suddenly start coddling him as Liam once did when he’d had a scare a few years prior.

He’d been in the middle of a concert for one of the first girl-bands he’d ever signed into the label when he’d suddenly began to get light-headed. Liam had been with him when he had suddenly felt Louis start to lean on him, slowly, until his whole body had been entirely resting on Liam’s side. Luckily, Liam thinks fast and clinically when it’s necessary, so he’d been quick to scoop Louis up bridal style - to Louis’ horror afterward - and had brought him backstage, preferring not to cause a scene in front of a giant crowd.

Laid on the couch, Liam noticed right away that Louis was unconscious. They’d called an ambulance as Liam had frantically tried to wake him up. When the paramedics finally arrived they’d had to perform CPR on him to bring him back without shocking his heart. Later, they explained that the vibrations from nearby speakers had set his heartbeat off, blood flowing slower than usual and therefore not supplying enough to keep him awake for too long.

Louis had been devastated when Dr. Bashore had explained that to keep any incidents like that from happening again he would have to stray clear from concerts or at least from anywhere near venues where the vibrations of the sound could potentially damage the weakened heart muscles.

Liam had begun coddling him as soon as they had left the hospital, always looking at him and asking how he was feeling. The worst part was how bad an actor Liam was. He would try for nonchalant whenever he would cough or sneeze. But Louis could see the infinite worry etched onto his brows and how his mouth would suddenly frown if Louis locked himself in his room for too long.

It took a lot of pep-talks from himself to finally dig up his cardiologist's number and confirm the bloody checkup. He knew it would be the same words repeated as they always were, but he couldn’t help but feel scared enough to sheepishly ask Zayn to come along to the appointment.

“You’ve been skipping them, haven’t you?” Was the first thing Zayn said as they began heading towards Dr. Bashore’s office in his car.

Zayn was as much of a mother-hen as Liam, but the difference between the two was that Zayn’s never-ending state of calmness and mystery helped in situations where Liam would probably already be furiously ranting for an hour without pausing for air. Louis was thankful for it, but it made disappointing Zayn so much harder. With Liam, he could just wait until he was finished screaming and know that he was somewhat forgiven. With Zayn, it was a quiet kind of sorrow, and it always felt like he was letting him down the most.

He’d missed him though; he’d missed having him on one side and Liam on the other. Louis knew he wouldn’t be able to go alone.  
“I hate them Z,” Louis admits defeated, voice raspy as he sips his morning tea, looking away and out the window to the faint blur of cars racing by.

Zayn tsks but hums a sound that sounds faintly like an agreement, eyes never leaving the road.

“It’s just… very heedless. I wish you had been going those two months you missed. Anything could’ve happened since then,” Zayn says softly, and Louis feels like shit.

It’s one thing to skip his checkups quietly and have no one know but him, the solace of his disappointment enough to make him feel miserable. It’s another kind of let down to put his own best friends and sister through it. He understands where Lottie was coming from. Like Zayn, they lost a parent, the most vital parent. Lottie knows loss and him skipping the checkups didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, until he begins to understand the risks not attending those checkups implies. It means that there could be bad news he could’ve found out about sooner, and that is enough to make his chest feel a thousand pounds heavier.

“I never thought it through Z, I’m sorry,” Louis says, the faint bumps and curves not helping to ease his stomach.

“Let’s just hope no bad news come out of it and that everything is fine,” Zayn says with a tinge of optimism, “Have you been feeling well though? Like, did you have any more attacks?” He asks.

Louis knows he’s referring to his night terrors and panic attacks, which hadn’t happened in a long time. “I-uh did… have one a few weeks ago,” Louis admits wearily, knowing full well he’s not helping his case in the slightest. He doesn’t like to tell Liam or Lottie whenever he has one because it makes him miserable. He doesn’t understand why he should let them know the unnecessary news. There’s nothing they can do about it, and it just feels cruel to make them worry. He can deal with it by himself; he’s been doing it since he was eighteen. He begins to get upset as he feels helpless to win Zayn over to his side, and the more he tries to explain, the more he understands how selfish he'd been. 

“I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t see why you should’ve told someone. But the point of telling us is so that if anything were to happen, we could alert the paramedics when the ambulance eventually comes to pick you up Louis,” Zayn reprimands, eyes ablaze with so much pleading that it makes Louis squirm. his chest caving with pressure.

“I’m an adult Z, I understand that, but my night terrors have never led to anything else. If I had had any other problems, I would’ve told you guys, but I just didn’t see the point. It's not fair I have to let you know everything when I should be supposed to be able to take care of myself. All my life I've felt so fragile and over-protected,  I am a grown-ass man, and I shouldn't need bloody assistance for fuck's sake!" He hates snapping and he hates yelling but he does whenever he's been poked around enough.

There is a heavy silence where neither men speak, Louis running frantic and shaking hands through his hair, grasping on to air, so he doesn't give himself a heart attack, but he struggles more each time he gets scared. He tries to shut his ears and eyes to cocoon his brain into solitude but Zayn's warm hands draw him to a halt.   
  
"You're not alone in this one Louis, you've never been alone," Zayn says certainly, his honey-colored eyes so sincere and sad that Louis forces himself to calm down. 

"I’m sorry,” Louis whispers after he feels his breathing regulate. He says it just to get the point across that he really is sorry. It still feels like the apology won’t phase until they both know that the missed appointments didn’t lead to anything irreversible.

Zayn nods once and finally parks at Dr. Bashore’s office.

Louis prays to everything up above that nothing comes out of the checkup, but it does nothing to lift the uneasinesses as he announces himself at the front desk, Zayn like a shadow at his side.

 

+

  
“Arrhythmia,” Said Dr. Bashore from where he sat on his tidy glass desk, “Irregular heartbeats, low blood pressure in your case, and the classic pinching in the chest from time to time.”

“When did it begin to happen?” Asks Zayn from beside him where they’re both seated in front of Dr. Bashore.

Bashore looks at both men with piercing gray eyes, giving Louis a sad look of disapproval. He turns back to Zayn whose eyebrows have knitted so tightly together it almost seems like the marks on his forehead will stay on permanently, before he looks down at Louis’ recent EKG. “Mr. Malik, I’m more than positive that Louis here can tell you that himself. I know him well enough, and I’m sure he understands that his actions were reckless. Jay would’ve disapproved of his behavior,” Doctor Bashore said, turning his head to give him a pointed look, but Louis was fuming angry. He wasn’t yet sure if it was more at himself or at Bashore for bringing up his mum.

“Don’t bring my mother into this Dave. We both know how this shit ends and I really don’t feel like walking out again,” Louis warns with angry and determined eyes as he looks at his tired doctor, the one who’d promised Jay he’d make sure Louis was going to stay alive. The memory of Bashore’s confession from years ago presses hard on his pained scars from the past years of missing his mum.

‘I made Jay a promise which I intend to keep, Louis. You can’t keep skipping your appointments, it’s not safe, and it’s not wise of you. I can’t keep my end of the deal if you don’t keep yours,’ Dr. Bashore had asked desperately to a twenty-year-old Louis who’d been sitting before him with red-rimmed eyes and messed up hair. Louis’ one promise to his mum before he’d moved to London was that he’d continue to attend appointments with a trusted doctor she’d found for him. Louis had been reluctant but agreed.

Though after a while, Louis began to avoid his reminding calls after almost two years of attending them monthly. Liam had threatened to bring his sisters into the matter if he didn’t comply with continuing. He’d been terrified that Louis would suddenly have a heart attack for missing one check-up. Louis vaguely recalls there had been lots of yelling and tears before he’d been convinced into rescheduling.He hadn’t blamed him then, and he wouldn’t blame him now. “Anyway I feel fine, I don’t think you should be getting all worked up by some bloody arrhythmia. I have a hole in my damned heart for f-’’ He cut himself off. Only because he knew how much Zayn hated when Louis acted like a prick. Taking a long pause he takes time to breathe in, “I don’t get it,” He states, pacing mildly, around Bashore’s office.

“I wouldn’t expect you to Louis, no matter how many defects you were born with you are not a cardiologist. Arrhythmia is usual for people with your level of heart defect, but we cannot leave it untreated if your heart is acting up,” Bashore explains calmly yet with a tinge of admonishment from his seat. Zayn is nodding quickly to his words, attention intact after Louis’ outburst. “If you had come any later than today it would’ve been on a stretcher with paddles attached to your chest,” Dr. Bashore announces to Louis over Zayn’s head, “but we still need to treat the arrhythmia before it gets any worse. I suggest upping your current meds and scheduling weekly EKG’s to be sure that the treatment is effective,” He says emphatically.  
Louis feels his stomach sink as he turns his head to his doctor. “I think beta-blockers would be best for your current results,” Bashore finally announces quietly with a certain sense of defeat in his posture when he finally directs his eyes towards Louis once more. Knowing him for five years lets him understand Louis’ current train of thought as he watches his eyes drain very suddenly.

There’s a long silence where neither of them says anything as Louis slowly begins to sit down again, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as he fights against the sudden vice in his throat.

“I understand that you don’t want it, but it’s the only non-invasive way to go about this. We are still looking for a donor, and you’ve been upped a few spots in the last month, we’re optimistic to seeing your name in the top ten by mid-July,” Bashore tries to appease, but he knows better than to believe that Louis is actually listening or caring about the news.

Louis just keeps staring at the same blank point, hand over his mouth where he seems to be sinking into his head faster with each passing minute, eyes fluttering from one side to the other.

“I fucked up. I stopped taking the stronger meds, and I fucked up Z,” Louis says without turning to Bashore because he knows that he already understands what he did in those months that he didn’t attend his check-ups. He not only risked his name dropping in the donor list but he also risked his health enough to land him with beta-blockers in the process.

Zayn turns to him with the same worried and questioning expression but with an even more significant presence of disappointment dripping from his eyes. “What are beta-blockers? What’s so bad about them?” He asks in the same deep tone of voice he uses whenever he demands an answer. Louis starts to attempt a decent explanation when Bashore cuts him off and cuts straight to the chase.

“They block the adrenaline hormone which is responsible for most emotional reactions. If you’re scared, then epinephrine keeps you alert and forces your brain to make a decision, like the flight or fight reaction in certain situations. The down-side of the drug is that it almost always mellows people out, it disallows strong emotions, so that heart-rate never picks up too much. It keeps you stable, but some side-effects include depression which is why Louis has always tried to avoid it,” Dr. Bashore explains sadly to Zayn who seems to be getting more alarmed by the second. “It’s a common drug for the elderly, but we rarely prescribe it to young adults. In Louis’ case it’s necessary due to the level of defects in his heart and the misuse of his prescriptions in the last couple of months,” He says avoiding looking at Louis who is still pale white and staring blankly at the carpeted floor. “I hate to say it, but we must switch to a strong dose of beta blockers to buy us enough time to acquire the donor for the heart transplant or else it will be too late. He’s not high enough yet and if he were to suffer a heart attack then we wouldn’t have enough time to revive him and acquire a donor,” Bashore breaks it all down as if the situation hasn’t been dragging Louis to the ground for years.

Zayn sits there for what feels like hours, thinking it over in his head a thousand times before he turns to Louis. “What are you thinking?” Zayn asks calmly though he just wants to pull his hair out in frustration.

Louis looks up suddenly with faintly red-rimmed eyes now. He looks like he did five years ago and he feels the same too. “I’m thinking how I’ll be a walking corpse for the next five months because I was a fucking imbecile,” He admits truthfully as he breaks from Zayn’s pitiful gaze. He hates pity. “I understand this is the price I have to pay. It sucks a whole-fucking lot but there’s really not much left for me to do but bear it,” He says as he turns to his doctor and nods his head towards him in understanding, “Prescribe me the bloody medication so I can wallow in peace, please.”

Bashore nods once and begins to write the instructions down on paper.

+

  
The ride back is quiet and tense, the silence hanging over them doesn’t help Louis, who knows he’ll beat himself up for this for the longest time.  
He knows that Zayn is driving straight for the nearest pharmacy to get his new medication, and though he feels sorry that Louis will have to be quieter than usual because of them, he understands that he's developed a dangerous condition that could eventually lead to a heart attack.

Louis, on the other hand, is wondering over in his head how he’ll be able to work if his mind is all foggy from the drugs. He was prescribed beta-blockers only once before, and he remembers how sad and retracted he’d become then. Now he worries it might be even worse than before. He fears that another year of depression is upon him, but promises himself that he’ll try for his sisters to keep a good attitude. He knows there isn't much of any other motive that could fuel him like his siblings do.

  
It’s as their reaching the pharmacy when Louis remembers Harry.

“Oh fuck,” Louis groans into his hands, placing his head on his knees where they're parked outside the store.

Zayn snaps his head towards him immediately, “What’s wrong?” He asks without the usual zen he normally has. “Are you feeling faint?”

“No, no don’t worry,” Louis says quickly as he sits back up too fast, the movement not helping his current state as he feels the car spin for a second. “I’m- I’m fine, really,” he tries, but Zayn doesn’t buy it.

“What are you thinking Louis?” Zayn asks again as he did back at the office not thirty minutes before. “I know your brain is going a hundred miles a minute. You can tell me,” He assures, his voice returning to its quiet and syrupy mellowness. Louis surrenders.

“Harry will notice,” Louis croaks, so quietly it almost gets lost with the faint wind outside the car.

Zayn takes a visible breath in and looks around the empty parking lot for a few minutes, where they both sit in silence. “I don’t think he’ll jump straight to congenital heart disease; it’s a tricky thing just to guess,” Zayn tries, but they both know what Louis is saying.

“I don’t want him to treat me differently, but I won’t lie if he asks me for the truth either, I don’t think,” Louis responds, he thinks for a second that maybe it’s just his head talking distractedly but the more he mulls it over, the more he knows its true.

“You like Harry, don’t you?” Zayn asks finally, and it seems like the drop of water that ultimately brings out the flood.

“It’s been weeks Z, how can you like someone you’ve only just met? I don’t believe in the love-at-first-sight bullshit, I don’t know what I am even doing with him, I don’t know what led me to write his whole fucking album,” Louis says exasperatedly. “How can you fall for someone you’ve seen for a month only? How does that happen? I must be a psychopath because I don’t think anyone has ever developed feelings so quickly as I have,” he feels like his tipping on the border of sobbing in irritation. “Maybe the drugs will help me calm the fuck down because I have to tell you right now that whenever I’m standing near that boy, I go so soft I want to run away immediately. I have never felt so strongly as I do for him and- yeah, I sound insane, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” Zayn replies almost immediately as if dealing with a cornered, terrified animal. “When I first saw Li I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest with nerves. I remember I thought he was the cutest man I had ever seen, I always wanted to be near him, and I always wanted to know about his day. It was the weirdest shit when I finally squared up to my feelings and realized I had fallen for him in quite literally, no time,” He says breathlessly as he chuckles, eyes misty when he sees Louis’ own red eyes.

Zayn chuckles gruffly, attempting to hide his very obvious eyes. He places a hand on Louis’ cheek, where a single tear is falling and turns away to look out the front window. “We must look like a hot mess to the passerby,” He adds, looking at two teenage girls eyeing them weirdly.

There’s a beat before he continues, “You’re not insane Louis, you just like the guy. I don’t see how that’s bad? You should look deeper into it, not ignore it, as if it’s a disease. Maybe try asking him some questions and see how he responds," He suggests softly as he rubs a calloused thumb through Louis' wet eyelashes. "We could even plan to eat dinner together and see how he goes about it. Li and I could be your secret agents keeping a close eye on his body language,” Zayn says amused as he wipes his own eyes quickly, Louis letting a small quirk fall on his lips as he gives him a small smile. “But don’t beat yourself up because of that."

"Also, I doubt he’ll notice, but if he does, just mention that you’re under the weather. You really wouldn’t be lying but keeping a few details out of your excuse,” He finishes as he pops off his seatbelt, the sound a contrast with the thick silence of the car.

Louis stays quiet for a while longer while Zayn grabs his prescription and car keys from the ignition.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps out of the car or as they make their way to the back for his medicine. Buying the meds doesn’t instantly make Louis break down, but he does feel like shit for most of the ride home.

“I’ll see if he actually wants to grab a bite this week and I'll let you know,” Louis says a while after when they’ve almost reached his flat, eyes cast to the window, speeding colors all that's visible.

Zayn looks at him sideways since he’s still driving but nods encouragingly. “Perfect, I’ll tell Li to keep that in mind so he can make it too,” and that’s the end of their conversation as they reach the tall glass covered building.

+

“Lou, is that you?” Calls Liam from Louis’ bedroom up on the second floor of his penthouse, and through a long hallway, his voice echoing in the quiet of his empty kitchen and living room. He hates the silence when there's bad news.

“Yeah, we’re down in the kitchen,” Louis yells back as he heads to his kitchen counter and places his coat on the nearest chair. His back is hunched forward in exhaustion as he takes a small water bottle from the fridge and as he washes his hands on the kitchen sink, the cold somewhat reducing his stress as he splashes some on his face as well.

Liam comes bounding down the stairs like the giant bear he is before he walks into the kitchen and heads straight for Louis. “Hi, love! How was the check-up?” He asks as he hugs him tightly to his chest, face squished into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis suddenly feels his throat clog up again with some unshed tears as he tries his hardest not to sob, his voice quivering slightly while he holds onto Liam tightly, fingers curled desperately to the back of his flannel.

“I-It was uh-well…-”

“The doctor said he developed Arrhythmia in the past month, so he put him in beta-blockers,” Zayn cuts in quickly to distract Liam while Louis tries to compose himself.

Liam is quick to look behind him to where Zayn is standing with both hands in his leather jacket, a small smile sitting on his plump pink lips, eyelashes shadowing his honey eyes a fraction as he stares up at him.

“Zayn, I didn’t know you were here too!” Liam exclaims quickly and takes a few steps towards him before he places a soft and quick kiss on his lips, a small smile in his face before it falls completely as he looks back at Louis, processing Zayn’s words after a beat of trenchant silence.

“Wait,” Liam says frowning, and his voice falling. He lets go of Zayn and stands with limp arms in the middle of the kitchen. “Arrhythmia?” He looks alarmed and confused, his eyes questioning as he looks at Louis. “Why do you have arrhythmia if you’ve been taking all your medication?” He asks as he tries to make sense of everything. Louis knows he’s not a cardiologist either, but for a second he fears Liam will figure it out.

“I uh- don’t know really, he says I have it, and he put me on beta-blockers for it,” Louis merely says as he tries to level his voice to a neutral hum.

“Beta-blockers? But, aren’t those the ones you hate?” Liam asks again, oblivious to the magnitude of the situation.

“Y-yeah, those are the ones,” Louis replies shortly as he purses his lips and shakes the orange container in his hand to emphasize it.

Liam looks like he wants to say more but Zayn is quick to place a hand on his shoulder, so he doesn’t keep commenting. “Yeah, so Lou you should take them before bed so we can be sure you don’t have an allergic reaction, yeah?” Zayn asks loudly, and Louis agrees with a grateful nod. He places two pills on his hand, the bottle of water on the other.

“This is going to suck a thousand times more than the Lopressor,” Louis says quietly as he turns the pills over in his hand for a second, grimacing at them in discomfort. He would typically comment how 'Deja Vu' it feels, but he already doesn't feel in the mood.

Both Liam and Zayn stay quiet, and Louis is thankful for that. They all know it’s true, but it helps no one to remain pessimistic at times where Louis feels his lowest.

He throws them back quickly and proceeds to drink his water in two big gulps before he sets is aside. “Let’s watch a movie to pass the time,” Liam offers as he points to the living room, where the TV is turned on, and the opening title of a Marvel movie is paused.

“Sure.”

+

“So how does the bridge melody come again?”

They were all stuffed inside the studio for the fifth week in a row, all of them bleary-eyed and sluggish with sleep. It was the perfect excuse for Louis to act lethargic and distant as he noticed how much he had zoned out in the past thirty minutes. Harry hadn’t mentioned anything yet as he also seemed to be struggling terribly with keeping his eyes open as he stared at the band rehearse the melody for Two Ghosts, which Louis and he had written less than a week before with a few of Harry’s songwriting friends.  
It had been a lovely evening, where Harry had sheepishly asked if he could bring over a few mates that he’d met while hunting for his infamous producers. They’d all agreed and had managed to whip up at least three songs in one evening. They’d written Carolina; where Harry had to take a few sips of wine to let them know about this one girl from Carolina he’d met who he’d had some sort of fling with for a few months and all about how exciting and weird he’d found her when he’d gotten to know her. They were all confused as to what Carolina he was referring to so they thought it hilarious to name it that instead of anything else.

Then they’d written Woman. Harry had been fairly tipsy and lose by then, and he’d been okay explaining how this one older woman he’d dated had completely changed the dating game for him. He explained that he’d really had his heart broken for the first time when he’d been seventeen, and he wanted to give a tribute to that relationship in the record. He had gone off explaining how young and naive he'd been, and how he was thankful for the time he spent learning how to treat a person right. They’d named it Woman to really set it apart from all the other ‘girls’ Harry talked about in all the other songs.

Louis had eyed him every once in a while as they both understood that he wasn’t going to be able to use the correct pronouns for some relationships in his songs. They’d privately decided that they’d focus on his female relationships and save the male ones for his second record. All and any he’d had.  
It was safe to say that Harry had gotten a little misty-eyed when Louis had promised to help him write his second album as well. Louis might have swallowed a tiny lump in his throat when he’d seen how excited Harry was to work with him in the future.  
Two Ghosts had been by far the biggest shock to Louis. Harry had explained that for seven months he’d had a not-at-all-secret fling with none other than Taylor fucking Swift, of all people. He’d explained that he knew a few lyrics and songs had been sent his way a year prior in her last album and that he wanted to salute back with a song that could faintly turn her way but not entirely. He’d explained that it hadn’t been a life-changing experience that he was thankful for the memories he’d taken from it. Louis had visibly swiveled in his chair, and Harry had mouthed a small ‘Later,’ to him with a wink.

  
If Louis had accidentally almost tipped over in his chair, it was nobody’s business but his own.

  
Coming back to the tired faces around him in the weary morning, Louis wanted to laugh, but the drugs kept him queasy and foggy-minded. Instead, he opted to look for Harry, who’d disappeared from his eyesight a minute prior. He caught him on the other side of the room with his phone’s screen lighting up his face. He noticed the Kurt Cobain God-awful sunglasses he tended to put on just to spite Louis. The first time he’d come in with the sunglasses Louis had called a collective meeting, where he’d petitioned a demand to get Harry to donate them as soon as possible. Harry had only sat grinning widely on Louis’ leather chair and covered his face with his hands, as everyone laughed at Louis’ jabs.

  
Today they were propped on his head as he kept making weird noises with his lips, totally oblivious to Louis smiling softly from the other side of the studio. A few minutes passed where Louis couldn’t seem to dismount his eyes from Harry, his short hair looking terribly adorable as some of the curls had begun to grow in at the top. He looked up suddenly when he’d finished using his phone and smiled at Louis - who probably looked like a lazy deer caught in headlights. Louis couldn’t bring himself to freak out though, so he opted instead to hide his face on the bend of his arm, raising his shoulders up to show he’d been caught red-handed. He heard a faint giggle before Harry started to dance his way towards Louis who was peeping at him through his arm. “Enjoying the view, I see?” Harry said huskily to bother Louis. He pursed his eyes enough to make him look like a grandpa attempting to read a faraway sign and puckered his lips out, his face suddenly morphing terrifyingly close to John Travolta’s. Louis surprised himself when he began to laugh loudly into his arm, attempting to muffle the sound from the band who was still milling about with their morning coffees.  
Harry dropped the act instantly and chuckled in delight at the blue-eyed boy; his lips pulled in a shit-eating grin. “Your laugh is the most adorable and annoying thing ever,” Harry said matter-of-factly with a vast amount of fondness drowning his green eyes. His hands placed comfortably on his hips as he looked down at Louis through sleep-filled eyes.

  
Louis felt his own eyes widen in exasperation. He sat back up and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, bringing out his sass. “Excuse me? Annoying? My laugh is charming and breath-taking, and anything other than wonderful won’t be acceptable adjectives I’m afraid,” He said with a posh accent as he turned his head away and eyed Harry sideways.

  
Harry only snorted and threw his arms around Louis’ shoulders, squashing his face against his back, as he kept laughing with endearment. Louis tried his best (not really) to push Harry off of him, to no avail.

  
“We all better be getting those morning cuddles Harry,” Warned Adam from the other side of the booth as the rest of the band mockingly opened their arms wide for him. Harry let go of Louis at last and roared stupidly before shuffling into the booth to squash the rest of his bandmates to death as well. Louis ignored the pang of fondness in his chest.

  
+

  
A while later they’d all successfully procrastinated as they had decided to have a few cups of tea to wake up, which led to them laying down on the floor of the studio listening to Billy Joel lull them with jazzy saxophones and beautiful lyrics.

  
After they’ve gone through the complete album, Louis is the first to stand up, but it doesn’t favor his sensitive stomach when it turns dangerously on its axis. He feels himself drain of color and hastily excuses himself, praying he doesn’t spray paint the walls with his puke in the process.

  
What he fears most comes true when Harry quickly stands up after him and asks if he’s alright. Louis can’t risk nodding his head in fear that he’ll end up being sick all over the studio floor. He opts instead for a light sprint down the stairs and into the bathrooms not too far away in a secluded hallway. He is quick to reach the first stall and manages to somehow close the door behind him before he retches and throws up all of his breakfast in one go. His eyes water with the force of his heaves, his fingers white where they’re clutching the white basin for dear life as he struggles to calm down his quivering stomach. He hates throwing up.

  
After another round of vile comes up, Louis finally feels safe enough to stand up on shaky legs and wipe his mouth, closing the lid and flushing the toilet, he takes a seat to catch his breath. He breathes in a few times as he feels his heartbeat slow down to a quiet thrum once more. He sighs heavily and rolls his shoulders before he unlocks the stall door. Going to the sink, he is quick to rinse his mouth and wash it over with mouthwash before he splashes his face a bit to liven it up. Defeated, he turns to leave when he’s met with Harry’s tall frame looking back at him from the bathroom door. Louis feels his blood run cold instantly.

He has a tight and deep frown, and his arms are crossed entirely over his chest, his shoulders tense and wound together as he looks back at Louis, suddenly seeming older. His eyes are still the same shade of green they’ve always been, and his mouth is just as rosy as ever, but Louis can’t afford to linger on that now.

“Harry,” Louis says though there’s not much more to add to that but, “What are you doing here?”

“You took so long I got worried and came down to check on you,” Harry says with the same frown and his voice sounding deeper and confused, maybe even a small amount of panicked.

“Uh- yeah, I- I wasn’t feeling well when I left my house this morning, and I thought it would just pass but… guess it didn’t,” Louis shrugs as he tries to keep his cool, sticking both of his hands in his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet. He tries to maintain steady eye contact with him, so he doesn’t suspect anything.

Harry looks at Louis worriedly and shakes his head, “You should go home Lou, missing a day or two isn’t going to set us back,” He insists with big doe eyes that seem a hundred times bigger when he looks so worried. Louis doesn’t understand why he would bother getting so worked up, but he decides it best not to question it.

“I swear I feel better now. You don’t need to get yourself worked up now,” Louis insists and prays that he takes the bait.

Harry stays put with his arms crossed and looks down to the tiled floor with worry as if he’s questioning what he should do in his head. He looks young, worried and so protective that Louis feels that same warmth from the first time he talked to him almost a month ago. He feels the radiance of Harry caring make his way towards his chest, where a small unnamable ball of something settles quickly, and Louis is surprised to welcome it so naturally. It reminds Louis of the few kind-hearted people he’s met in his life, all the people who have left a mark on him. Harry is one of them now, for better or worse.

  
Louis catches his train of thought before it begins to write sonnets in the curly-boy’s name.

  
Harry looks back up at Louis after a few more beats and seems to analyze his features, his brows still scrunched tightly together. “Can’t you just call Liam or Zayn to at least take you home afterward?” He asks instead of letting it go. Louis sighs.

  
“Fine, I’ll call Liam, he’s closer to the studio than Zayn,” Louis says, and he looks at Harry in the eye meaningfully, “I’m excellent, it’s just a bug. Nothing to get your pants in a twist.”

Harry doesn’t seem wholly convinced, but his shoulders let up a bit after he confirms that Liam will be coming over later.

 

+

  
Not even an hour passed before Louis felt a headache come in. He understood the pills brought on a shit-ton of side-effects, but it didn’t ease the pain of going through them any better. Harry was keeping a constant eye on him as they recorded some more vocals for Two Ghosts and Louis was trying his best to act the part. He’d just struggled a bit whenever a hard wave of pain crossed his head too harshly, but for the most part, the headache was bearable enough to sit through. After another fifteen minutes of recording, Harry was finally let out of the secluded booth, Steven mixing his recordings and adding them to the instrumental. Harry was quick to walk towards Louis with a pointed look, “How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, understanding that Louis didn’t like making scenes. He crouched down to be eye-level with Louis where he was sitting and there was no joke or banter in his face, there was worry and care. Louis felt it was particularly hard to swallow.

“I’m better. I really felt better afterward, don’t worry yourself and focus on the record,” Louis insisted again as he places both hands on his shoulders, rubbing softly with his thumbs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then why are you grimacing like someone’s sticking a knife in your gut,” Harry asked cleverly as he raised a lone eyebrow, knowing he was winning.

Louis scoffed and crossed his arms.“I am not, I feel fine and I don’t grimace. I feel perfectly fine and you worrying is not helping anyone’s case.”

“So you’re saying I should worry?”

“No, you thick-headed dork, I’m saying you have to relax your… everything."

“I feel pretty relaxed. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Harry said in a soft voice and earnest eyes that made Louis’s head go foggy for a second. All the worrying and the doe-eyes with the hands and the Harry wasn’t any good for Louis whatsoever. It was hard to admit, even in his own head, but Louis couldn’t help but enjoy this new sudden side of Harry that made him even more charming and incredibly adorable. It really went to show how attentive and nurturing he could be and it filled Louis’ chest with that on going warmth. Ignore it as he might there was no denying the tingles Louis suddenly felt at the tip of his fingers when their hands met. He’d reserve the last smile of a conversation for Louis only. It was easy to overlook whenever he’d be worried for his palpitations or his blood pressure - when he’d be alone in his flat with just the hum of London to lull him to sleep. But, even in his dreams, Harry liked to be a guest.

It was true that it’d been a while since his last nightmare, and ever since he’d met Harry, he wasn't sure there had been one. But, he didn’t like to give much thought to that when he had the real-life version with warm, jade eyes looking straight at him.

“Thank you for caring H, but I already feel better from all your worrying. Liam knows I have a stomach bug. I assure you, he’s going to make sure your favorite producer doesn’t choke in his vomit while sleeping,” Louis said amused and expected Harry to laugh.

But, looking back at him Harry had a frown and seemed terribly confused. 

  
A few seconds passed and Louis noted how many punctuated silences they had under their belts.

“Louis, you’re not just the ‘producer’ to me,” Harry said bewildered, with raised eyebrows “I would like to think you’re my friend now, and that we can have each other’s backs outside of this building,” Harry sounded almost desperate, “I trust you, and I think you can trust me enough to call me a friend. I just- I hope you can see that if you’re ever sick or sad that you can come to me as well,” His eyes looked earnest and open, like tiny windows showing himself to Louis, and Louis was overwhelmed.

How could one person be a package-deal so effortlessly and willingly? How could Harry just come in and start caring out of nowhere when Louis didn’t ask for it. Why was he suddenly being presented with this kind soul? Louis bitterly thought that it was the heaven’s way of teasing him. Boys like Harry were only in princess movies, which he used to watch thousands of times a day with his sisters. Where the characters were perfectly crafted between teams of people and where it took years at times to create a character that could be lovable and charming.

There was no real-life prince, and he refused to believe Harry was his for the taking. He refused to think that such a kind and warm human could ever truly exist. Maybe Harry was made in a lab or has many, many flaws that will suddenly make Louis hate him. Better yet, maybe Harry would go off on a world tour when his album came out and forget about Louis, so he could finally sit back and wait for a bloody heart to arrive and never think of perfect Harry Styles ever again. 

But, that hadn’t happened and it wouldn’t until they had each done their part to finish said record. So, there was still a long way to go before Louis could run and hide away from those kind eyes that haunted him in the most entertaining of ways.

He could feel his eyes pinch with emotion, but he blinked quickly, shaking his head to clear out the fog. He looked down at Harry and smiled undoubtedly this time. “I trust you Haz. So much. I don’t think I’ve ever become good friends with someone so fast, actually. I-I don’t trust easily, I’m a very hard book to read and many people like to stray clear of me for that,” Louis chose to blank out the peaking sadness where Harry’s lips bent. “I don’t mind it much since I _am_ very introverted, hence the secluded and mysterious studio we’re in.” 

Harry smiled tinily but it was there and Louis felt the wrench in his ribcage let up as he sighed quietly, as he looked down at the pale and green-eyed man. “What I’m saying is that it’s okay if people walk away because of that, it helps me keep the ones who actually like me for _me._ I’m lucky to have you and to be working with you,” Louis sighed and laughed all together as he realized he’s fallen off-track, “and _no_ I don’t think I’m just your ‘producer’ I just don’t want to push anything on you, if that makes sense?”

Harry looked visibly perplexed and Louis feared he’s finally scared him off, but, surprisingly Harry just shook his head with a growing smile and looked up at him with shimmery eyes. “Trust me when I say you’re definitely not pushing anything on me. I still can’t believe I get to be your friend and eighteen year old me still fangirls a bit over you. I’m happy to be your friend and I’m just glad that we were actually on the same page,” Harry said as his shoulders relaxed fully and Louis smiled down at him, struggling to ignore his rapidly beating heart.


End file.
